


Compromises (The Bridge Between)

by purpleeyesandbowties



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: I Love My OCs And I Hope You Do Too, Multi, Starfleet Academy, alternate universe- academy professors, old married spirk, the pov character is a vulcan student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties
Summary: There were only three Vulcans at Starfleet Academy. One was a professor. The other was a third year science student, finishing up two credits before a mid-year graduation. The last was T'rin. There had been other Vulcans in the past, but all had graduated before T'rin enrolled. They were all Science track. T'rin was Command track. Her advisor, S'chn T’gai Spock, recommended she enroll in Introduction to Vulcan: Language, History, and Culture, co-taught by himself and a Professor James Kirk.In which there are cats, classes, compromises, and an unacceptable number of highly emotional conversations.





	1. Starfleet Academy

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was a product of love and about two weeks of the most intense writing i've ever done. i hope you all love t'rin as much as i do. thanks to my beta, housebyside for the excellent feedback and editing, and weresehlat for being a personal cheerleader and all around cool person.   
> the story is 100% written and i'll be posting one chapter a week (updates probably to come on fridays).   
> i'm sidras-tak on tumblr, please come talk to me about old married spirk and/or my beautiful children!

There were only three Vulcans at Starfleet Academy. One was a professor. The other was a third year science student, finishing up two credits before a mid-year graduation. The last was T'rin. There had been other Vulcans in the past, but all had graduated before T'rin enrolled. They were all Science track. T'rin was Command track.

As she unpacked into a small, single dorm room the day before the beginning of the semester, T’rin reflected on the scene she had caused back home, both for her choice of school and choice of study. Perhaps it would have been better to tell her parents she was Science track and then switch officially later. But that would have been dishonest. T’rin choice of school was indeed rebellious—what good and proper Vulcan would ignore her parents’ wishes so completely—she was still honorable. Command was where her skills lay, and so Command she would be. She still remembered the unmovable, still face of disapproval her mother gave her as she broke the news. Her father left the room without saying a thing. He had meditated for hours before he could face her again, and when he did, he still could not speak. The weeks between her announcement and the beginning of the semester were silent and still. T’rin packed quickly and efficiently, leaving behind most of her belongings in order to fit it all into two manageable suitcases. She left without a goodbye to her parents, and only Strak was there to see her off. She thought, in what could be considered hope by someone not fully dedicated to logic, that they would understand her decision in a few years, after she had proven herself an exceptional member of Starfleet and gotten command of a ship.

Until then, she intended to devote herself to her studies and immerse herself in Academy life. Perhaps she could write a case study paper about the mental and physical effects of transferring to a different culture. She might interview other non-human species once the semester got underway. It would be fascinating to look at which aspects of culture clashed between such different societies. Manners and rules and expectations—all good forms of study, and how they were already different in the atmosphere of a college campus. 

As one of three Vulcans on campus, she knew she would be considered an oddity by the human students. Their curiosity, while well-intentioned, would likely grow tiresome after a short while. Anticipating this, she planned to reduce attention on herself by concealing her ears under her hair and allowing her bangs to cover the uppermost part of her eyebrows. Without such characteristics, she was 86% more likely to appear human to her classmates, given they did not study her too closely. With as observant as humans were, in her experience, this would present no problem.

T’rin had just started unpacking when her PADD lit up with a new message. She set down her neatly folded shirts and tapped the screen to open it.

_ Cadet T’rin,  _ it read,  _ I have been assigned as your advisor for the duration of your education here. If it is acceptable to you, it is best meet before the semester begins to discuss your schedule. Though it is late notice, such a meeting should take place as soon as is possible. If you are free of obligation at 1300 today, my office is BRH 220.  _ It was signed with a long list of titles and honors that T’rin’s eyes slid over, filing away for later examination, and ending with ‘Professor S'chn T’gai Spock’.

She set aside the PADD. Of course, it was logical to assign the only Vulcan student a Vulcan advisor. She returned to her task, hanging up crisp new uniforms and folding her casual clothes--human in style in order to be as inconspicuous as possible--into drawers. Almost an hour later, her room was meticulous, adhering to regulations to the letter. She let out a measured breath. It was illogical to say that order made her feel better, but it did make it easier to concentrate. With everything in its place, she could give her full attention to any given task. So she picked up the abandoned PADD and wrote a return message to her advisor.

_ Professor, 1300 hours is acceptable. Cadet T’rin. _

That done, she glanced at the chronometer. 2.56 hours until her meeting with Spock. She sank to the floor on her meditation cushion. A mid-day meditation was unusual for her, but then, this was an unsual day. She allowed herself this reasoning and fell, gratefully, into quiet contemplation.

—

She opened her eyes 2.15 hours later, completely refreshed. She allowed herself a quiet buzz of satisfaction at the total peace and order of her mind, and then packed even that away, leaving a complete, balanced serenity in its place. Even this new place, so much further from the home she had known, could not shake her mental control. She debated bringing the standard-issue planner that had been waiting for her upon arrival to Starfleet Academy, but as she and Spock had Vulcan memories, she doubted it would be of any use. So she left, empty-handed, to find BRH 220. 

The campus was laid out strangely. There were several generations of architecture, so she assumed campus had been expanded over the years of its operations. Some buildings were squished between others without regard for correct spacing, some set back to hide in the shadows of a bigger building. There was a Medical building that was, for no conceivable reason, half a kilometer from the rest of campus. T’rin stopped in the middle of what the map she had memorized assured her was called the Quad to regain her bearings. Another student, human, walked past her hurriedly. The student turned on xyr heel and walked back toward her just as quickly.

“Hey,” the human said. “Lost?”

“I am attempting to locate building BRH,” T’rin said stiffly. The human was not easily identifiable as male or female. Xe had short curly hair held back by a headband, heavy non-regulation combat boots, and bright brown eyes. Xe laughed and said, “Yeah, Mac is tough to find. You came from the dorms, right? You must have walked right past it. It’s official name is Bhuler-Rolfs Hall but everyone calls it Mac or MacCollins.”

“Why?”

“Why?” the human repeated, sounding confused.

“Yes. It is illogical to give two names to the same building.”

The human shrugged, grinning. “Beats me. That’s just how it is. I’m Sidney, by the way. What’s your name?”

“I am called T’rin,” she responded, “I must depart. If I do not leave in the next two minutes, I will be late to a meeting with my advisor.”

“Right, of course. No problem. Let’s hang out later, though, yeah? I’ll be in the mess around 1700. I can show you which replicators make the best food.”

Sidney walked away without waiting for an answer. Over xyr shoulder, xe said, “say hi to Spock for me! Tell him I miss him!”

T’rin blinked. “I shall do no such thing,” she said quietly, though it was impossible for Sidney to have heard her. 

—

Professor Spock’s office was nearly perfect. It was well-ordered, organized, regulation. What was troubling was the small forest of holopics resting on his desk, maring the simplistic layout of the room. Though the desk was large, it was not so large that it could comfortably accommodate so many pictures and still maintain the correct proportion of work space. T’rin decided not to point this out to the professor. She was sure he knew, and must have some logical reason for the imperfection.

Spock rose as she entered, offering her the ta’al. She returned it easily. 

Spock looked younger than his sixty-odd years would suggest, though his hair was starting to go gray at the temples. He wore Vulcan robes, and his hands were steady, but beginning to wrinkle with age. His lined face stayed emotionless, except for his eyes, which were startlingly expressive. T’rin found she could not keep her own gaze there, and so focused on his silver-threaded eyebrows instead. 

“Welcome, Cadet T’rin. I hope Starfleet has been satisfactory to you since your arrival,” he said in Vulcan.

“Yes, it has been,” T’rin said. She sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, back straight and legs crossed at the ankles. Spock returned to his own seat. He pulled up something on his PADD to study as he spoke.

“We are in an unusual situation. As the only Vulcan faculty on campus, it is, of course, logical to place you under my care. However, I am unfamiliar with the workings of the Command track. For that reason, I have been appointed your personal advisor rather than your academic advisor. The duties of your academic advisor will fall to the head of the Command track, Professor Kirk. Is this acceptable to you?”

“Yes,” T’rin responded after 3.8 seconds of contemplation. “Why am I not meeting with Professor Kirk now, as this is an academic meeting?”

Spock’s fingers touched the area below his throat briefly, a movement so reflexive that T’rin doubted he knew he was doing it.

“Professor Kirk is currently away on Starfleet business. He will return in time for the semester to begin. However it is necessary to review and approve your schedule before classes begin.”

T’rin considered this. “This is acceptable.”

Spock nodded his agreement. “I have taken the time to review the schedule you submitted to the registrar. I find no fault in it. You are taking 1.6 times of the course-load as a human student, but I foresee no difficulty in completing your requirements for each class.”

There was something in his tone that implied he was not completely satisfied, though. T’rin tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. Any human would just see a slight change in her expression, but she knew Spock would be able to read the question for what it was.

“I would recommend you enroll in one other class this semester. I am teaching Introduction to Vulcan: Language, Culture, and History. I believe you would find it beneficial to attend,” he said.

“Explain,” T’rin said.

“Explain what, Cadet?”

“I am from Vulcan. It is not logical to take an introductory class to a subject I am intimately familiar with.”

T’rin read open amusement on Spock’s face and quickly schooled her own before offense could be read there. Such open displays of emotionality were highly inappropriate, a fact he must be aware of.

“Ah,” he said, setting down the PADD. “We will return to the topic of enrollment in a moment, but first it would be beneficial to discuss the problem at hand. Cadet T’rin, as you may or may not be aware, I am only half-Vulcan.”

T’rin stifled her surprise, shoved it down to be examined later. She knew of Spock’s blood status. What had surprised her was the wording. Intentionally, he had chosen to speak the last two words in Standard, as though he was avoiding the word for it in their mother tongue. 

He continued, “Therefore, I am half-human as well. I have served over two decades on a starship full of humans, and taught in an academy of mostly humans for a decade more. I have formed several fulfilling friendships with humans. Because of this, I am more prone to emotionalism than most Vulcans you have met in the past. I am devoted to the teachings of Surak. I allow logic to guide my life, but not control it. You will see me be emotional in a way that is no doubt disturbing for a Vulcan of your age and upbringing. I apologize now if this causes you any undue stress.”

“Your apology is unnecessary,” T’rin said stiffly. “You cannot control your human nature. It is illogical of me to assume you should.”

“And there you are incorrect,” Spock said softly. “I could control my human nature if I wished. I have done so for significant portions of my adult life. But I have found a balance between my human and Vulcan halves that allows me both control and happiness. Such a thing is not, of course, desirable to you, but I find I am content. Therefore, I once again apologize. I will likely act as no Vulcan you have known. It will be upsetting until you adjust to it.”

And then he smiled. Not with his eyes, or a small uptick of his lips, but a full, human smile. T’rin’s eyebrows shot up.

“I will allow you time to reflect on this,” Spock continued. “In the meantime, let’s return to the issue of your schedule. I believe you asked for reasoning as to why you should take Introduction to Vulcan?”

T’rin compartmentalized the earlier conversation, returning her full attention to the discussion of classes. “Yes, sir.”

She listened intently as Spock laid out his reasoning. As the only Vulcan student on campus, she would be able to provide an alternate, current view of Vulcan culture, history, and language. She could tutor struggling students in exchange for extra credits or community service hours. She could review the curriculum and suggest changes—the textbook Spock had co-authored specifically for this class was growing obsolete, and he planned to rewrite it over the next break. Lastly, it would help to ease the transition between her old life and Academy life. While Spock carefully avoided the word ‘homesick’—a human term for the shock of sudden change and the desire for the return of familiar routines and places—she could tell that was what he meant. 

She did not think this last point, however sentimental, to be without merit. Telling him this directly would be unprofessional as a starting cadet, so she simply agreed to take the class. He entered it on her schedule and sent it in for approval. They parted without further discussion, of which T’rin was grateful. She walked back to her dorm, thinking another mid-day meditation session would not go amiss. She pushed aside the compulsion to order her books and papers to prepare for class, instead. It was a much more logical use of her limited time.

At 1700, she decided it would be acceptable to seek out the mess hall for an early supper. She did not let herself wish to encounter a dark-haired human with non-regulation boots. That would be illogical.

—

Introduction to Vulcan was the first class of her day, three days a week. It began across campus in building LH2, room 335. The classroom was smaller than she had expected, seating roughly forty students in an auditorium setting, but it was nearly full when she arrived. She had heard, just from conversations around her, that it was a popular course, considering it did not fulfill any requirements outside of the Operations track. She supposed curiosity might inspire first-year students to take it while they could. Professor Spock was the only Vulcan professor, and the majority of his classes were upper-level, aside from this one. 

T’rin found a seat on the edge of the classroom, leaving one empty seat on either side of her. With one and half minutes to the start of class, someone slid into the seat on her right. T’rin glanced over and found her gaze stuck. The human she’d encountered the day before—Sidney—threw down a heavy-sounding backpack.

“Hey!” Sidney said brightly. “Good to see you again, T’rin! I didn’t figure you’d take this class. But, you know, it must be nice to be able to take a class from someone from your planet. Spock’s great; he used to be my advisor, but last year I switched from Science to Operations, which really threw a wrench into my school plans. So I’m back to square one, basically. He’s not really my advisor anymore, but he helped me put together a schedule that’ll get me out of here almost on time. Miracle worker, that one. You’ll really like him.”

“Hello,” T’rin said tentatively. Sidney talked so much, she wasn’t sure when xe was finished and it would be acceptable to contribute to the conversation.

“Hi,” Sidney repeated, looking amused. “Anyway, I have a ton of questions about Vulcan culture. You don’t have to answer them, obviously, that would be rude of me to assume you would or you’d want to. But if you ever want a study partner or something, look me up! It’s my goal to be fluent in Vulcan by the time I graduate. Spock said he’d tutor me privately if he can find the time, but the guy’s so busy I’m not banking on that.”

T’rin was at a loss for how to respond. Sidney jumped from topic to topic easily, leaving T’rin disoriented. She was relieved when the bell chimed, signaling the beginning of class. She focused her attention to the front of the room.

A uniformed human man stood there, hands folded behind him at parade rest. He was in his early sixties, if T’rin was pressed to estimate, and while he was in excellent shape for a man of his species and age, nonetheless, he carried some extra weight with confidence.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said. His voice wasn’t particularly loud, but it was commanding, and the class settled down immediately. He continued, “Now, as some of you might have guessed, I’m not Spock.”

A small laugh ripped through the room. He smiled, and T’rin could tell he was the sort of man who did not deny himself the opportunity to smile often.

“I’m Professor James Kirk, but feel free to call me Kirk, or Jim if you prefer. Professor Spock supervises an upper-level science lab on Mondays, so I graciously offered to give up my office hours to teach in his place. Don’t worry, you’ll get his superior teaching skills two-thirds of the time. And besides, it’s Monday morning at 0800. I’m not expecting you all to retain much anyway.”

Another laugh broke the room. T’rin narrowed her eyes. Would all her professors attempt to breach professionalism with humor? Perhaps she would have been better off staying on Vulcan after all.

Professor Kirk asked for questions, and was met with a large number of hands. He called on a student in the front first. The cadet stood up. He was obviously an older student, and radiated confidence.

“Sir, I signed up for this class because I was interested in learning about Vulcan culture from the source—a Vulcan.”

“Is there a question in there, cadet?” Professor Kirk asked. His tone was amused, but something a little steelier rested beneath it. The cadet deflated slightly. No matter how confident, no one wished to challenge a professor so forwardly, and on the first day. But he did anyway. 

“Are you qualified to teach this course, sir? I don’t want to waste a third of my class time doing busy work or mis-learning information.”

Kirk nodded slowly, considering the question. To T’rin’s astonishment, he answered in Vulcan, as if speaking an aside to himself.  _ “I’m always surprised by my students but somehow I never am ready for it.” _

His eyes scanned the class, most of whom looked confused, and locked onto T’rin. He lifted his eyebrows slightly.

“Cadet, if I could put you on the spot for a moment?” he asked in Standard.

She stood, smoothing the front of her uniform. “Yes, Professor.”

“How was that? I’ve been told my accent is terrible.”

“It was passable, sir,” T’rin said cautiously. His accent was truly terrible, but telling that to a professor did not seem like a good idea. He laughed. 

“That’s Vulcan for ‘it sucked ass’,” he informed the rest of the class. “Thanks, T’rin, you can sit down.”

The class laughed again, and T’rin sat down, unsure of how to react. In any other situation, being singled out would have been uncomfortable, but Kirk genuinely seemed to care about her response, not to draw attention to her heritage. Any discomfort she might have felt for the attention focused on her was diverted to the cadet who had asked the question in the first place. His face was flushed red, but he still stood at attention.

“As to your question, cadet,” Kirk said, “I lived and studied on Vulcan for several years, and so I have better-than-average grasp on the culture, language, and history, at least for a human. Since this is a culture, language, and history class, I feel as though I’m pretty well qualified to handle it.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean to offend—” the first cadet started, but Kirk held up a hand.

“No, don’t worry about it. It’s good to question authority a little. Thank you, cadet, you may sit down.”

Kirk fielded the other questions readily. Most of the students wanted to know why and when he had lived on Vulcan. Those questions he evaded neatly with a joke or a deflection. T’rin was brimming with curiosity as well, but she did not let it show. 

Kirk went over the syllabus and expectations for the course, which, he assured them, would be repeated in more detail when Spock returned. He assigned the first chapter of the textbook for Wednesday, but said if they didn’t manage to get all the way through in time, that would be alright. 

He dismissed class seven minutes early. T’rin packed up her things, mentally preparing for the next items on her schedule, including an introductory command class after lunch, and a physical education and preparation period in the late afternoon. Kirk stopped her as she headed for the door, Sidney trailing serval steps behind.

“Cadet T’rin?” he asked. She stopped, waiting for him to speak. He lifted his hand in a perfect ta’al, which she returned.

“Live long and prosper,” he said.

“Peace and long life,” she replied. She lowered her hand, instinctively trying to slip it into a robe sleeve that wasn’t there. She redirected it her side and hoped neither of her human companions noticed.

“I know you’ve talked to Spock about this already, but I just wanted to welcome you to Starfleet and to offer my support. If you need anything—academically, personally—anything at all; my office door is always open. So is Spock’s. Don’t be afraid to come to us with any problems you might have.”

T’rin nodded. “With respect, sir, I do not anticipate any situation in which I would require extra help from either you or Professor Spock.”

Instead of getting offended, the emotional reaction T’rin anticipated, Kirk’s face softened. He looked fond, almost, though she was sure the emotion was not directly connected to her. There was not enough communication between them to facilitate such fondness. But humans had a way of projecting emotion meant for one being onto another. It was disconcerting.

“Very well, Cadet T’rin. Just something to keep in mind. And Sidney! It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, Jim. How’s the husband?” Sidney responded. Xe pushed right up into Kirk’s personal space with an arm slung across his shoulder, but if the way he clapped xem on the back was any indication, he did not mind the intrusion.

“Same as always. Consistent, that’s what I love about him. Come over for dinner sometime. He won’t admit it, but he misses seeing you around. It’s been too long.”

“Will do! Listen, I’ve got to run to my next class, but I’m looking forward to class with you and Spock. I’m sure it’ll be a riot.”

T’rin absorbed the conversation quickly, not allowing her confusion or apprehension to show on her face. Was Sidney personally acquainted with every professor on campus, as xe seemed to be with Professors Spock and Kirk? And why was Sidney anticipating this class to be the cause of chaos and violence? 

Kirk and Sidney embraced quickly, and then Sidney’s hand was heavy on T’rin’s wrist, dragging her away. T’rin stiffened from the unexpected contact, and Sidney let go immediately. 

“Sorry, I forgot, no touching.”

“It is fine,” T’rin said, slightly off balance. The touch had been quick, but bright emotion—happiness, nostalgia—leaked through to her anyway. T’rin thought that the shape of Sidney’s thoughts were rather pleasing. 

“I bet you’re wondering what that was all about, huh?” Sidney said, waving xyr hand in the general direction of Professor Kirk.

“It is of no consequence to me,” T’rin replied, curiosity welling up inside her despite her best efforts.

“Oh. Good,” xe lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t really want to get into it anyway. Well, I really do have to get to class. See you around!” 

Then xe was gone. T’rin wondered to herself if she would ever manage to react in time to say say goodbye.

—

That Wednesday during Introduction to Vulcan, Professor Spock followed quite the same routine as Professor Kirk. He introduced himself, apologized for the change in the schedule, reviewed the syllabus, laid out expectations for the course, and dismissed them with a chapter of homework. Like before, T’rin lingered after class, syllabus clenched tightly in her hand. 

“Cadet T’rin,” Spock said as he cleared the holoboard. 

“Professor Spock, I have a concern about the syllabus. It says that we will be studying—” she lowered her voice an illogical fraction, “—mating rituals, mind melds, and bondmates.”

“Yes. We will spend a week on it, near the end of the semester.”

“Explain your logic.”

“Explain your dissatisfaction, cadet.”

T’rin blinked at the unexpected demand. Spock just looked stoically back at her, hands folded under the long sleeves of his robe.

“It is inappropriate,” she insisted.

“This is a class regarding the culture and history of Vulcan. Why, then, would it be inappropriate to learn about such things that are vital to our culture and history?”

“I—” T’rin stopped herself, an unusual hitch in her thinking. “I do not know. Somehow, the thought of…sharing such…intimate knowledge of our customs is….” she trailed off, unable to find a proper term that would not betray the depth of feeling burning uncomfortably inside her. She was gratified when Spock took up her train of thought.

“It is no doubt troubling to be studying such emotional topics outside of the presence of your normal peers. You are likely to expect humans to misunderstand, perhaps even romanticize, that which is only logical within the constraints of Vulcan society. Does this sum up your thoughts on the matter?”

“Yes,” T’rin admitted. 

“Allow me to put rest to your troubling thoughts,” Spock said. “What we will discuss will be within the bounds of what is appropriate: I will not share secrets of our people that do not belong outside of our world. I will provide you advance warning of the class periods that will contain discussion of such matters. It is likely the students will ask a number of extremely personal questions, which I fully intend to answer. My bondmate will be present as well. You will not be faulted if you choose to use those class periods to another end—meditation, perhaps, or extra study time.”

T’rin lifted her eyebrows, bushing off the permission to skip class as illogical, and instead latching on to another piece of information. “You will answer all personal questions?”

“Within reason, yes. I am here to teach, and that must include my own experiences.”

“Logical, yes, but still, you are aware the questions they ask may be inappropriate? What if someone asks you to demonstrate a meld? Or explain the… _ blood fever. _ ”

T’rin thought if that happened in her presence, she might die from embarrassment, as impossible as such a thing might be.

“Of course I will not,” Spock answered, scandalized enough to raise both eyebrows and shift his weight noticeably. Strangely, T’rin felt much more at peace, now that she knew there were some lines Spock would refuse to cross.

“You do not need to tell me your decision right now. You may even change your mind as the time nears.”

“There is no need,” T’rin heard herself saying. “I came to Starfleet for an education. It would be counterproductive to purposefully miss classes.”

T’rin caught a glimpse of a smile as Spock turned away to finish his task of clearing the board. 

“I will see you later this week. Dismissed, Cadet T’rin.”

“Acknowledged, Professor Spock.”

—

T’rin’s first week on campus hurried by in a rush of homework and new people. She spent most of her limited free time in the library, taking advantage of the campus’ large collection of reference materials. She sometimes lost track of time, digging into some dusty manual or another, quite uncharacteristic of a Vulcan. It was one such night when she closed a book to find the library empty around her and only the bare minimum of lights on. Her stomach growled and she admonished herself for allowing time to slip past. Ignoring her scheduled meal times, even in the pursuit of knowledge, was both unwise and unlike her. It was far past the hour she usually retired to meditate, adding unpleasant exhaustion to her hunger.

The mess hall would be closed by now, and she had nothing of substance in her dorm. So, for the first time, T’rin slipped on a light jacket, gathered up her books, and made her way off campus to locate a restaurant. 

There were a concerning number of pubs and bars on the streets bracketing campus. T’rin walked past all of them without a second glance. She was unlikely to find any nutritional food in such a place. The next street over offered several coffee houses and cafes. T’rin scanned the options quickly and selected a well-lit, under-populated cafe on the corner. The sign designated it the ‘Kozy Korner’, a name which T’rin had no choice but to accept as intentional. 

T’rin ordered quickly and sat down to wait for her food with a book she had checked out from the library. Her salad, soup, and tea arrived quickly. About halfway through her meal, the bell above the door jangled and a small mob of humans came tumbling in, laughing and talking loudly. One human peeled from the group and came trotting over to her.

“T’rin!” Sidney said, loud and energetic, even for xem. “Isn’t that funny?”

“What do you find amusing?” T’rin asked, privately wondering if Sidney had been patroning one of the many bars she’d passed earlier.

“I was just telling my friends about you,” Sidney explained, waving a hand toward the group. A few of the people waved back and T’rin gave them a small nod of acknowledgement. 

“Can I sit?” Sidney asked after a few beats of silence. Confused, T’rin said, “I have no control over this. The onus of your position rests solely on yourself.”

Sidney snorted, waving a hand. “I meant, is this seat taken?”

“No,” T’rin said, even more baffled than before. “It is clearly still in the same place it was when you arrived. Are you inebriated?”

Sidney laughed outright, dropping into the empty seat across from her. “I promise I’m not laughing at you, but damn. You’re not usually this literal, what’s up?”

T’rin lifted her chin, finally understanding Sidney’s confusing questions. “A misunderstanding, for which I apologize.”

She did not wish to explain that the combination of the late hour and her hunger made it more difficult to decode human speech patterns, especially when she had not been expecting to encounter anyone who wanted to speak with her. Sidney only shrugged.

“I don’t usually see you off-campus.”

“No. I stayed in the library longer than I anticipated and found I required food after the mess hall closed for the night.”

“We’ve all been there,” Sidney said. One of Sidney’s friends came over.

“Sid, we’re ordering,” she said, eyeing T’rin openly. T’rin swallowed, not allowing herself to shift under the stranger’s gaze. 

“Oh, just get me a coffee. And a muffin or something.”

The girl sighed impatiently. “Is that to stay or to go?” she asked, sounding as if she knew the answer. Sidney winced. “To stay? I’m really sorry, Jules, I know we were gonna hang out tonight.”

“It’s fine, we can do it some other time,” Jules said. She leaned down to kiss Sidney’s cheek quickly and flitted her fingers in T’rin’s direction.

“Make sure xe gets home safe,” she told T’rin.

“Why am I the one who needs protecting here?” Sidney complained. 

“Because I’m in T’rin’s gym class and I’ve seen her kick the instructor’s ass. Vulcans are way stronger than humans.”

T’rin startled, studying the girl quickly. Now that she had said that, T’rin did recall a human of her stature in her class. Jules gave Sidney a pat on the head and headed back to the rest of the group. When she got there, T’rin heard her say lowly, “Sid is staying here. That’s the Vulcan girl xe won’t shut up about.”

“Oh, xe’s right, she’s really cute,” one of the others said. T’rin returned her attention to her food, deciding to ignore both the conversation and the heat gathering on her cheeks and dusting the tops of her ears. 

Sidney rubbed the back of xyr neck awkwardly. 

“I guess I didn’t ask if I could stay. Do you mind?”

T’rin considered it. The thought of her scheduled meditation pulled at her, but her food was only half-gone and she could spare another quarter hour before returning to campus.

“You may stay if you wish,” she finally said. Sidney’s face lit up. 

“Awesome! So, I was thinking about what Spock said this morning about sehlats. Are they pets or like, guardians? Do you consider them a part of the family or are they just there?”

T’rin sipped her tea, fielding Sidney’s many questions easily, and feeling the minutes slip by. Fifteen came and went, then another quarter hour more, and T’rin did not stop xem from talking. She would reallocate studying hours the next day to catch up the meditation she missed. She rationalized by telling herself socializing with humans was a skill she would need in the future. But somewhere inside, she knew she would have spent the time with Sidney, gain to be had or not.

\--

A second week quickly followed, then suddenly the first month was gone. T’rin found her classes to be interesting and her professors to be adequate. She excelled in her studies, particularly in her command classes and Introduction to Vulcan. She socialized with Sidney often and occasionally a few of xyr many colorful friends. She worked on the case study research and maintained good working relationships with her professors. She made sure she got the recommended amount of meditation and rest.

She could not figure out why she was so constantly exhausted.

Despite her best efforts, she felt herself begin to slip socially. Her participation in classes, while never overbearing, became less frequent until it disappeared completely. Every time Sidney would ask to ‘hang out’, T’rin waved xem off with one excuse or another, too tired to properly interact with the person who was rapidly becoming a close friend. 

One Monday after Intro to Vulcan, Professor Kirk asked to speak with her.

“Are you doing alright?” he asked once the rest of the class had filed out.

“Elaborate,” T’rin said, in an effort to deflect.

“You seem…out of it. Tired. I just want to know if you’re feeling okay.”

“I am adequate,” T’rin said brusquely. Professor Kirk raised his eyebrows.

“Not with that tone you’re not,” he muttered. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you what to do. You’re old enough to take care of yourself. But consider talking to Spock. He might be able to help.”

A rare flash of anger came to the surface and she snapped, “I am not—” she cut herself off. One breath in, out. Her head throbbed with the same headache that had plagued her for two weeks. Kirk waited patiently.

“Yes, I think it would be beneficial to speak with Professor Spock.”

She suppressed the blip of annoyance she felt as he nodded, looking satisfied. “He’s in his office now, if you’d like,” Kirk offered. 

“Thank you,” T’rin said stiffly.

—

Professor Spock seemed unsurprised to see T’rin when she knocked on his door.

“Come,” he said. He gestured for her to sit, and she did. 

“Tea?” he asked, already standing to move towards the small teapot on his windowsill. T’rin stayed silent as he prepared two cups of tea. Spock didn’t design to break the silence, handing her a mug and settling behind his desk with his own. T’rin took a sip and immediately felt herself relax. It was a Vulcan blend, one she hadn’t had for over a month now. The familiar taste conjured up memories of home. Which, she thought, glancing at Spock over the rim of the mug, was probably the point.

“You are tired,” Spock said. It wasn’t a question, so T’rin did not bother to reply.

After another long sip of tea, he said, “Do you know why?”

“Do you?” T’rin countered.

“Yes,” Spock replied, calmer than she was.

“Then tell me,” she said. Spock continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

“But I am not the one who needs to know why. You do. You are on the command track. As a captain, you will need to solve problems for yourself, even when you are tired, in pain, and under stress. Habits formed early will stay with you through your Starfleet career. So I ask again: do you know why?”

“No,” she said. Spock waited. Then, quieter, T’rin asked, “will you help me figure it out?”

“Yes. I have found that I have been able to solve many of my problems by talking through them with another person. No doubt this goes against your instinct to sort out problems through meditation.”

“I will try it. Meditation has done nothing,” T’rin admitted. Spock nodded sagely. 

“You may use me as a sounding board. Generate a list of reasons for your fatigue. I will respond only if you wish me to.”

T’rin took another drink of tea. “It is not because I am not getting enough rest. I meditate every night.”

Spock said nothing, merely lifting his eyebrow. T’rin settled back in her seat. She wasn’t used to thinking out loud. Like anything, it would take practice. But she tried.

“I am eating a balanced and healthy diet. I sleep the recommended amount on a normal schedule. I am getting daily exercise that is not too physically demanding. I should not be this tired.”

“But,” Spock prompted. 

“But, I am. Every time I leave my room, exhaustion sets in. Even sitting in my room exhausts me, though less so than when I am outside. My head aches often, and this is not rectified by sleep or meditation. The only time I am not tired is when I am alone in the library at night.”

Spock raised his eyebrow. “Elaborate.”

“I go there to study at night, if I do not need to sleep. It is usually deserted, especially on the third floor. When I’m there by myself, I don’t feel as tired. It as if…” 

A strand of thought tugged at her. She pulled back, relieved to have a grasp of something.

“It is because of the people,” she said, deciding to reword her last statement. Spock nodded again. She could tell he was holding back, but there was something like pride in his eyes. It made something heavy settle in her chest for a brief moment. She swallowed, disconcerted not only by the emotional response, but by the situation.

“I still do not understand why. Yes, Starfleet Academy is large, but my city on Vulcan was larger by far. I should be used to this many minds around me.”

“You forget: even Vulcan children have a tight grasp on mental shielding. You have likely spent your whole life surrounded by Vulcans with shields in place. Humans have no shields without proper training, and see no reason to train. They are excessively emotional, and their minds are loud. They do not know the effect they have on us.”

T’rin looked down at the empty mug in her hands. Instead of the quiet rush of satisfaction at a mystery solved, she felt hollow. Knowing didn’t help anything after all; she was still so tired. 

“If you like, I can help you strengthen your own shields. I know of ways to reduce the mental strain.”

“Yes!” 

The word was out of her mouth before she could think it through. Mortified by such a strong exclamation, she clamped her mouth shut. Spock only looked calm, however. There was no distaste in his eyes for her outburst. Half-human, she remembered. Emotional. Should she trust him to teach her emotional control, this Vulcan who relished in his own emotions?

What other choice did she have? She lowered her head, and Spock took that as permission to continue his explanation.

“There are several ways to achieve the end you seek. Focused meditation is one. It will take the longest time, but will work excellently once completed. Another is a temporary solution: physical distance. If you find you need to rest and are unable to meditate yourself into silence, my apartment is several miles off campus and in a much less populous area. My bondmate shields excellently, so you will have no trouble should you chose to rest at my home.”

T’rin grimaced slightly. More meditation would be difficult to fit into her already-busy schedule, and sleeping at a professor’s house was not acceptable. 

“Is there another option?” she asked. 

“Yes, but you will reject it.”

“What is your reasoning for that?” 

“It is…unorthodox. The final option is to use one human as a waypoint for the others. I use my bondmate; the mental link we share allows me to channel his thoughts and feelings alone, even among throngs of people. He ‘drowns out’ the other voices, so to speak, by virtue of being the loudest one.”

T’rin recoiled at the thought. Melding was personal; it was for families and bondmates and emergencies, and none of those applied here, no matter how tired she was.

“You are correct. I reject such a practice.”

“As I thought you would. I will allow you time to deliberate your options while I clean our mugs.”

He took her mug from her and swept out of the room. T’rin automatically shifted her legs beneath her as she did when she mediated. She would not, of course, mediate in public, but the physical position cleared her mind enough to think deeply. Spock would return in approximately 5.8 minutes and she wished to have an answer for him when he returned.

The obvious choice was meditation, but he promised it would take time. With midterms approaching and the fog of exhaustion hanging over her, it would be illogical to take that extra time. The offer of his house was plausible, if rather embarrassing. One full night of rest would do a lot toward helping her maintain her grades and social life. The third option, she refused to think about. Even if she did accept it as a possibility, there was no one whom she could reasonably ask.

Unbidden, Sidney’s face floated up in her mind, with xyr wide smile, bright eyes, and restless energy. She’d wondered, sometimes, what Sidney’s mind would look like. Not well-ordered, surely, but perhaps it would make its own kind of strange sense. Full of light and color, she was sure. Perhaps it would be inviting and comfortable. Perhaps—

Spock entered, cutting off that avenue of thought before it could get away from her.

“Have you made a decision?” he asked. T’rin stood.

“If it is acceptable to you, I will accept your invitation to…rest at your apartment temporarily. It will give me the energy to continue my meditation until it becomes a permanent solution.”

“Very logical,” Spock said. He wrote something on a florescent pink sticky note and handed it to her. An address, she saw, not too far off campus.

“The code at the bottom will let you in. You are free to come whenever you wish. My bondmate and I will be there around 1700 hours. Be mindful of the cats.”

—

The cats, T’rin found, were clingy and loud. Five of them, each a different age and breed, rubbed against her ankles, purring and meowing by turns. The youngest, with white fur and bright blue eyes, was the loudest. Its voice was much higher than the sleek black adult or the hairless one of indeterminable age, or the matching calicos just out kitten-hood. The white one attempted to climb up her trouser leg, meowing insistently. T’rin plucked it from her leg by the scruff of its neck. She stepped over the others through the threshold of the apartment, still holding the loud one.

Professor Spock’s apartment was large and airy. She could tell it was inhabited by an academic—books and PADDs filled up the bookshelves that circled the living area. It was orderly, yes, but also lived-in. There were some pillows on the floor near the couch rather than on it, dishes of cat food and water by the door. He must have humans over fairly often, T’rin thought, taking in the boxes of cookies and other human food on the kitchen counter.

There was no one else here. T’rin’s last class had finished early. By her estimate, she had at least three hours before either Spock or his unknown bondmate would return. T’rin dropped the white kitten on the couch and continued her cursory inspection of the apartment. The living area, kitchen, and bathroom were easy to identify. There was another room crammed with books and an old oak desk that T’rin designated to be a study of some sort. Two more rooms remained, both with closed doors. T’rin bypassed the larger one, as she had no desire to see her professor’s bedroom. She chanced the other door to find a small guest bedroom. The bed was made neatly, with fresh, nondescript sheets and blankets. There was a meditation cushion next to the bed. Aside from that, the room was bare. It felt clinical, almost. T’rin settled down to meditate immediately, pleased by the lack of distractions.

After a few minutes of blessed silence—and how strange it was that what she had considered ‘silence’ on campus was really filled with the quiet buzz of unshielded minds pressed against hers—something warm and heavy hit her lap. She jolted out of her trance. The hairless cat was curled up in the cradle her crossed legs made. It looked at her without blinking. Strangely, T’rin felt as if she were being judged by it. Hesitantly, she put a hand on the cat’s head. It nuzzled into the touch and then laid its head on her leg. Feeling as though she’d somehow passed a test, T’rin returned to her meditation, peaceful for the first time in a month.

She slept. Sometime after her mediation, she had moved from the floor to the bed, and the hairless cat had moved with her. When she awoke, clear headed, after what her internal clock told her was four and a half hours, the room was in shadow. She heard the murmur of voices from outside the closed door and a few faint meows that indicated the other cats were nearby. Her own hairless companion gave a gravely mew and yawned in T’rin’s face.

T’rin wrinkled her nose. Cats were illogical pets—smelly, loud, affectionate, and unable to protect their host families from anything larger than a mouse. Sehlats were much better suited to the role.

It would be polite to go out and thank her hosts for allowing her to stay before she left. Four hours wasn’t a full night’s rest, but it would be sufficient for now. Spock had told her to stay as long as she needed, but she did not wish to be a burden on him. Sleeping there while there were only cats around was acceptable; intruding on an established routine between a bonded pair was not. 

As she briskly pulled the sheets taut over the bed again, something caught her eye. On the wooden bedpost, near the juncture where the post met the mattress, there was an imperfection. A closer look revealed it was a carving. Crudely done, she noted, as if with a dull knife. Edges of jagged wood stood out pale against the dark grain of the wood.  _ Sid waz here,  _ it proclaimed, and nothing else. T’rin turned the words over in her mind. The misspelling of the word ‘was’ indicated that the writer had been young—or at the very least, immature—when the carving was made. As for the content of the message, T’rin had to wonder at humans’ instinct to leave markers of their presence behind wherever they went. The need to leave proof of life and purpose for someone else to find. T’rin had never felt that impulse. Was it one that she would be able to control, if she were human? Or was it a need rather than a want, like the need for meditation was to Vulcans?

She might ask later, if the curiosity continued. It was the one emotion she let herself feel fully and unashamedly—curiosity was useful where other feelings were not.

But for now, she pushed it aside. She brushed her fingers over the rough carving once more, picked up the cat, and headed for the door. It opened before she could reach it, however, bringing her face-to-face with—

“Oh, hi,” Professor Kirk said, surprised. “I was just coming to see if you were awake. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“You’re—Spock?”

“No,” Kirk said, amused. “I’m Jim, not Spock.”

T’rin just continued to stare at him, trying to connect the dots and knowing she was painfully slow in doing so.

“I’m just teasing you, T’rin. I forgot humor doesn’t always fly. Spock’s in the kitchen.”

Kirk noticed the hairless cat in T’rin arms. “Oh, I hope Crackers didn’t bother you. He can be awfully cuddly. He usually meditates with Spock; thinks every lap is an invitation, now.”

He shook his head fondly, holding out his arms. The cat—Crackers, apparently—used T’rin’s chest as a springboard to get to him. 

“Hungry?” Kirk asked.

“Yes. I mean…yes. Thank you,” T’rin said dumbly. “But I should return to campus. I have…homework.”

“Ah, yes. Of course,” Kirk said. “Well, come say goodbye to Spock and the cats first.”

She knew what the logical explanation was, however long it had taken her to find it, but needed empirical evidence to support it. She got that evidence as she followed Kirk into the small kitchen and saw Professor Spock wearing a flowery apron over his robes. He extended two fingers toward Kirk seemingly without needing to look. T’rin looked away as Kirk brushed his fingers against Spock’s in a familiar gesture that seemed as natural to them as breathing.

“Did you sleep well, T’rin?” Spock asked, moving away from the pot he was stirring to grab a bottle of spices from a cupboard.

“Yes. Thank you. I found the rest most satisfactory.”

“Good. You are free to return whenever you have the need. The guest room will be kept clean and empty for your uses.”

“Again, I thank you.”

“Alright, you two, enough with the formalities. T’rin, why don’t you stay for dinner? Spock’s making some kind of Vulcan soup-thing, minus the stuff that makes me sick.”

T’rin took a cautious sniff. The air did smell like some approximation of a soup she’d had in her childhood.

Spock said, “I have adapted several traditional dishes for my bondmate. I trust you will find the compromise suitable as well.”

“No,” T’rin said quickly. “I have intruded on you enough already. I could not—”

“Stay,” Kirk said jovially. “We insist.”

T’rin glanced at her Vulcan professor, unsure if her presence was truly wanted. But Spock was gazing fondly at his bondmate. He turned his attention to her, saying, “It has been far too long since we have had company. If you are uncomfortable, you do not need to stay, but you are welcome to.”

T’rin nodded slowly. “If it is no trouble,” she began. Kirk waved a hand. 

“Not at all!”

“Can I assist in any way?” T’rin asked. Kirk smiled in that bright, overwhelming way humans did when they made more of a statement than was intended. 

“You can set the table, kiddo.”

T’rin stiffened at the endearment. Kirk winced. “Sorry, T’rin. I’ll try to reel in the human-ness.”

“I would not expect you to change your human nature,” T’rin said, echoing the first conversation she’d had with Spock. Kirk’s lip twitched as if he could hear what she was thinking.

“Right. We’ll find a way to meet in the middle. Compromise. Like the soup. Speaking of, sweetheart, how’s it coming?”

“Dinner will be ready in four minutes, Jim. T’rin, if you wish to be of help, the bowls are in the left cupboard, silverware in the drawer below it.”

They ate the hybrid soup with fresh bread at a small table. There was little conversation, but the silence felt restorative rather than uncomfortable. Crackers crawled into T’rin’s lap in the middle of the meal, and she did nothing to remove him. He would only return, so it was only logical to not waste her time. 

“Oh, sorry, T’rin, I can take Crackers if he’s bothering you,” Kirk said.

“No, he is not a bother,” T’rin said, perhaps a touch too quickly. She could appreciate why humans collected cats so easily. The weight and warmth on her lap was rather comforting, as was the gentle rumble of purring.

“Why do you have so many cats?” she asked. “I could see the appeal for one, or two so you may each have one to care for, but five is an excessive amount for the number of people in the apartment.”

Kirk outright laughed at that, laughing all the harder at T’rin’s perplexed expression. It had been a very reasonable question.

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot how  _ earnest _ curious Vulcans can be. To answer your question, we take in all strays. We adopted Crackers first, having a hairless cat was Spock’s idea—easier to clean up after—”

“Logical,” Spock interjected, and T’rin could tell it was a well-worn argument.

“But then we found Nova—the black one—hanging around, begging for food, and I couldn’t say no. Then came the twins, Cali and Coco, and they went out hunting one day and brought back Creampuff, and suddenly we had more than we knew what to do with. They’re good company. The house has been too quiet since Sidney left.”

“Sidney?” T’rin repeated. Then, in realization, “Sid.”

“Shit,” Kirk said. “I shouldn’t have…ugh. T’rin, please don’t bring it up to xem, okay? I don’t know if xe wanted you to know.”

“I do not know what you mean,” T’rin said. 

Spock said, “It is not our story to tell you. Already, we have told more than we should have.”

The atmosphere, which had been so welcoming before, was clouded and uncomfortable.

“I should leave. I am sorry,” T’rin said, standing up quickly. Crackers meowed in annoyance at the sudden displacement, but landed on his feet and stalked off, tail held high.

“Wait,” Kirk said. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, T’rin. Listen, we really enjoyed having you over tonight. This isn’t just human niceties now, I really mean this. Come back whenever you want to, okay?”

T’rin nodded her assent, not making eye contact with either of her hosts.

“Our home is yours,” Spock said. His voice was strange, deeper than normal. T’rin looked up and got caught in the blatant emotion in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what he was expressing, only that he felt a lot of it. 

He lifted his hand. “Live long and prosper, T’rin.”

The familiarity and weight of the words convinced her, more than anything, that they truly wished her to return. 

And she would. This one evening had held more contentment than she’d experienced in a long, long while. She wanted it back. She thought Spock knew what she meant when she responded, “Peace and long life.”

She endured a quick back-pat that was clearly an aborted hug from Kirk and left the apartment ten minutes later with a container full of soup and a half a loaf of bread, courtesy of her hosts. The scent clung to her coat for days afterward.


	2. Complex Human Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who read, left kudos, or commented on chapter 1! i don't typically reply to comments bc i can never find the right words, but know that every single one made me giddy with happiness. (exception: if you have a question regarding the story posed in your comment, i will usually respond to those). again, i'm sidras-tak on tumblr, and i'm always ready to talk about star trek!

The next morning, T’rin encountered Sidney in the Quad on her way to her 0900 lecture. Sidney smiled as xe always did.

“Hey, T’rin! How’s it going? I didn’t see you in the mess last night. Everything okay?”

Unexpected annoyance pricked at T’rin’s chest, hot and sickly.

“Why did not tell me you used to live with Professors Spock and Kirk?”

“Wha—what are you talking about?” xe asked weakly.

T’rin shook her head. “Do not lie. I saw your name carved on the bedpost.”

Sidney sighed, shrugging xyr shoulders with xyr hands stuck in xyr uniform pockets. “I just didn’t want to tell you, alright? It’s not a big deal.”

“Am I not an adequate companion?” T’rin demanded.

“Huh?”

“Friends. They are supposed to tell each other secrets. I was under the impression we were friends. Yet you kept this from me. I wish to know what I have done incorrectly. I wish to fix it.”

Sidney ran xyr hands through xyr hair. “Jesus. Okay, first of all, this isn’t the place. Are you busy right now?”

“I have class in ten minutes and forty-five seconds.”

Sidney pursed xyr lips. Quickly, T’rin said, “I do not need to attend. The subject matter is simple enough that I will not fall behind.”

“Okay. Let’s go to my room, we can talk there.”

The walk to Sidney’s dorm was hurried and awkward. Neither of them would look at the other. T’rin could only guess at her companion’s feelings, but she herself was battling to regain control. Anger and hurt swirled around, too sharp and bright to be pressed down. This was Spock’s influence, she decided. She would never again spend extended time with him outside of class. Sidney ushered her into xyr room and shut the door behind them. It was covered in wall hangings and posters, mostly depictions of spaceships and stars. It made the small room seem much smaller.

“So,” Sidney said, flopping down on a beanbag chair. Xe gestured for T’rin to take the other. She sat carefully. It was impossible to maintain proper posture in a beanbag chair, she found, and it did nothing to improve her mood.

“First of all, what you said about us being friends? We are, okay, I think you’re a great friend,” Sidney said. Xyr tone was still guarded, but xyr words were softer than T’rin expected.

“So why did you not tell me?” T’rin asked.

“You’ve never had a friend before, have you?” Sidney asked instead of answering. 

“No. Vulcans do not commonly have friends.”

“I keep forgetting you don’t just  _ know  _ this stuff,” Sidney muttered to xemself. “Okay, so think back like a month, after our first Intro to Vulcan class, when Kirk talked to us. We’d seen each other twice total, right?”

T’rin nodded.

“So would you really expect me to tell you my tragic backstory after a combined ten minutes of knowing each other? We were hardly acquaintances then, let alone friends. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, naturally,” T’rin answered, but she didn’t fully understand. In her experience, ten minutes was generally enough to know if a relationship would be worth cultivating. There was no succinct way to explain this to Sidney, so she did not. 

Into the silence, Sidney said, “You’re one of my best friends, T’rin. But I don’t really…talk about that part of my life, the time I spent with the Kirks. I’m not ashamed of needing to stay with them or anything—they’re amazing people and I owe them a lot. But I have a lot of bad memories connected to that time.”

“I do not understand,” T’rin said, because she truly didn’t. How could staying with the Kirks be both a good and bad memory?

“It’s fine. I don’t really understand it either.”

They stared at each other for several moments, each unwilling or unsure of how to continue. 

“I haven’t talked about it to anyone besides Jim and Spock. I…want to try talking about it. To you. If you want.”

“If you wish to discuss it, I would be grateful,” T’rin said cautiously. “From what I have researched about human friendships, providing emotional support and a ‘listening ear’ seem to be paramount to the continuation of a strong relationship, which I intend to cultivate with you. In addition…I find I am curious about it, and personally invested in your wellbeing.”

Sidney looked up, an unexpected smile cracking xyr face. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” xe said, sounding touched.

“It is the truth,” T’rin said.

“Okay,” Sidney said. Xe let out a deep breath. Xe chuckled softly. “It’s not even a terrible story, you know? A lot of people had it a lot worse than me. It shouldn’t…whatever. Let’s do this.”

Despite saying that, Sidney was not prepared to talk for another 2.2 minutes. Xe fiddled with a small felt ball xe picked up from the floor.

“Okay,” xe repeated. “So, my parents were always, um, distant? I was raised mostly by my big brother. They were always at work or out somewhere, and Andrew did more for me than my mom and dad combined. Andrew wanted to be in Starfleet more than anything, but my parents were against it. They said it was too dangerous. They were right, I guess, because he went missing in action.”

Sidney laughed bitterly. “His first assignment out of the academy and he gets taken captured by some fucking bloodthirsty aliens on what was supposed to be a peaceful First Contact.”

T’rin almost recoiled physically from the unexpected venom in xyr voice. She’d never seen her gentle friend so angry before. She wanted to provide comfort and peace somehow, but did not even know where to begin to.

“Things got bad at home,” Sidney said, resting xyr chin on xyr knees. Eyes distant, they continued, “When we got the news he was missing, presumed dead, my parents got paranoid. Suddenly, I was the center of their attention, all hours of the day. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house or do anything alone. They barely let me go to school. After years and years with only Andrew to look out for me, it was suffocating. They wouldn’t let me grieve Andrew. They refused to have a funeral for him, even though we all knew he was dead. I couldn’t handle it, so I ran away. That was the bad part. The good part is that I only spent a few days on the street. Jim Kirk found me trying to hack Starfleet files to find the planet Andrew went missing on. Instead of turning me in, he let me stay with him and Spock for the night. I slipped out the next morning, intending to do the same thing, but Jim had warned the police to look out for me. They brought me in, Jim came to visit me, let me yell at him for about two hours, paid my bail, and invited me home. Spock was the one to suggest I get into Starfleet and find my brother the right way. I was still in high school and my grades were abysmal, but I busted my ass to get through. It’s probably only because of their recommendation that Starfleet accepted me. I owe them…a lot. Everything, really.”

Xe fell silent. T’rin didn’t know what she should do. Humans needed physical reassurance, didn’t they? Carefully, she rested her hand on Sidney’s shoulder. Xe started, surprised, but relaxed into the touch. “Thanks,” xe said quietly, as if xe knew how big a gesture such contact was for T’rin.

“And your brother?” T’rin asked. A surge of emotion flowed through their small part of contact, much stronger than T’rin was expecting. She barely managed to not to move her hand away.

“Andrew came back after three years MIA. Last summer. I’ve seen him a few times, but he’s still in pretty bad shape—mentally more than physically. The doctors are confident he’ll be ready to reintegrate into society by the end of this year. I’m planning on moving off-campus into an apartment with him. I’ll go part-time at Academy to take care of him.”

Xe shook xyr head. “It’s funny, isn’t it? He took care of me my whole life, and now I’m gonna take care of him right back.”

“And your parents?”

“Dunno,” Sidney said. “Haven’t talked to them since then. I don’t even know if they’re still living around here.”

At T’rin’s distressed look, Sidney smiled tightly. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. They were never really family. I have Andrew again, and Spock and Jim. I don’t need them. And I have you now, too. I’m all full up on family.”

Sidney covered T’rin’s hand with xyr own. T’rin flushed but didn’t move her hand, either. Sidney didn’t know what xe was doing by such an action. Xe was only seeking human comfort, which T’rin had already resolved to give xem. For her friend, she would set aside her Vulcan instincts and let xem be comforted. Though the emotions shared by their touching hands, xe really needed this. A compromise.  _ Like the soup _ , she thought.

“Well, I managed to talk about it,” Sidney said, aiming for humor and missing. 

“You did very well,” T’rin said. “I am proud of you.”

“Really?” 

T’rin only nodded, worried that if she tried to say something, she’d say too much. Sidney sniffed once, eyes watery.

“Wanna play video games for a while?” xe asked.

“That would be an acceptable activity,” T’rin said, knowing that she would not have denied Sidney any request in that moment.

—

“Humans are complex. I do not understand why you chose one as your bondmate,” T’rin said, apropos of a greeting as she entered Spock’s office, one Thursday morning late in the semester.

“It seemed the logical thing to do,” Spock answered, measuring out two mugs of tea. Despite her promise to herself, T’rin had begun spending portions of her free time in Professor Spock’s office, and a few nights a week in their apartment to catch up on rest and enjoy some Vulcan food. He did not seem to mind the intrusions into his life—in fact, he and Kirk both did much to make her comfortable and welcome. T’rin assumed they liked having company, and found that their ever-increasing presence in her life brought a great deal of personal satisfaction. Her emotions were more balanced and her mediation went more and more smoothly every day. 

“Explain your logic,” T’rin said, more of a question than a demand. She’d been getting better at that too; curbing her natural bluntness. Spock didn’t take offense, but several of her classmates and professors did. Yet another compromise she had to make to live among humans, one of many she had been making of late.

“Well,” Spock said, “It is a complex matter which includes a discussion of feelings.”

“I wish to understand,” T’rin said decisively. Spock’s eyebrow lifted in a way that indicated he was pleased.

“I served with Jim on the U.S.S. Enterprise. I presume you are aware of this?”

“Yes, it is common knowledge.”

“He was my captain and I, his first officer. Those first years served to build a foundation of trust beyond anything else I’ve ever experienced. My devotion to Jim was stronger than my duty to my people, my responsibility to Starfleet, or the obligation to my parents. I believe I would have sacrificed the universe to keep him safe.”

Spock punctuated this outrageous statement with a long sip of tea. T’rin copied him.

“You are troubled by this,” Spock observed.

She replied, “It does not make sense. If the universe was gone, life would surely be unsustainable. To take such an action would kill him anyway.”

“You are correct. But if my choices rested between the lives of many and the life of Jim Kirk, I would pick him every time. Love is not always logical, T’rin.”

“Ah. So the choice to bond with him was an emotional one?”

“In part. It was also logical, in its own way. Would you reject breathing if it brought you happiness and pleasure?”

T’rin frowned. In Spock’s presence, she allowed herself to show much more expression than she would among other Vulcans or humans.

“No. Even if breathing brought me pleasure—which it does not—I would still need it to live.”

Spock inclined his head. “Then you have your answer. It was logical to bond with Jim Kirk because I discovered I could not live without him.”

T’rin turned that over in her mind. “Do you mean that if he had died or denied your offer to bond, you would have taken your life?”

Spock thought for a few long seconds. “I do not know. Thankfully, Jim accepted my offer to bond immediately and enthusiastically. I have been faced with the prospect of his death many times, and each time was its own new horror. I do not believe I would take my own, but it would hardly be a life worth living, without him. It would be a regression to all I was as a child on Vulcan—miserable in my own existence, empty of meaning. Craving to be without emotions and still drowning in them.”

This, at least, held up with what T’rin already knew. An unfulfilled or broken bond could be deadly to a Vulcan. Such strong bonds were rare and that Spock had found one in a human was rarer still. But it was not impossible.

“I accept your reasoning.”

“I am pleased by this,” Spock said. “Now I have a question for you: why did you bring up this topic?”

“Bondmates?”

“Complex humans,” Spock said with gentle amusement.

T’rin flushed, looking down at the mug cradled in her hands.

“I do not wish to discuss it,” she said. “At this time,” she added, as a precaution, in case she wanted to later seek his advice. 

“Of course,” Spock said. “Shall we continue with meditation? Your shields are continuing to improve.”

T’rin agreed and they set aside their mugs to settle on the floor. They sat face-to-face, their knees a few centimeters from touching. T’rin closed her eyes and let Spock’s measured voice guide her thinking to a secure place. 

An hour later, as T’rin gathered her books and returned her mug, Spock said, “Thank you for a productive session. And as to our earlier conversation…Sidney is an excellent human, complex as xe may be. You need not fear any emotions connected to xem.”

T’rin flushed darker and found herself unable to put together a satisfactory response. Spock gestured at the door. 

“Think on it. As a reminder, we will be discussing mating rituals beginning tomorrow. You may attend if you are comfortable doing so.”

T’rin assembled her face into what she hoped was collected disinterest. “I am sure it will be of no consequence.”

—

It was with some trepidation that T’rin entered Intro to Vulcan the next day, a frisson of some emotion in her stomach—nervousness, preemptive embarrassment, and a touch of anticipation. Far too many emotions for a Vulcan of her age, but then, these were unusual circumstances. She allowed herself to feel, freely and fully, these unpleasant things, just for this morning. By the second lesson of this unit she would have it under control. She sat beside Sidney, who glanced over at her, did a double take, and said, “God, you look terrible! What’s wrong?”

T’rin could not stop the worry that washed over her. “There should be no reason for you to suspect anything is wrong. Is my emotional control so unstable it is obvious to you?”

“Nah,” Sidney grinned. “Jim told me to keep an eye on you during class today. You look as cool and stoic as always. You should have seen the look on your face when I asked that, though. That expression is going in the ol’ memory scrapbook.”

“Oh,” T’rin said, completely unsure of how to react to that. Sidney laughed. “And that one! Wow, two expressions in one morning! You must be really nervous.”

“I will admit to some…trepidation,” T’rin allowed. Sidney grabbed her hand and squeezed it, completely missing the sudden, sharp green flush on T’rin’s cheeks.

“Don’t worry, bud. I’ll be here the whole time.”

“I thank you,” T’rin said evenly—or as evenly as she could with so much  _ contact  _ between them. She let out a relieved breath when Sidney dropped her hand. 

“Good morning, everyone,” Professor Kirk said. He and Professor Spock both stood at the front of the classroom, a united front against forty students armed with curiosity and no sense of propriety.

“For the next few class periods, Spock and I will be co-teaching. The subject matter we’ll be covering is extremely sensitive, and I must ask you to take it seriously, or leave now.” 

No one moved, though T’rin had a fleeting moment where she thought she might take up Kirk’s offer.

Spock continued, “Vulcans are secretive in regards to mating habits and other such personal matters. The pursuit of knowledge is honorable, of course, but there are simply some subjects I will not touch upon. I ask you to respect this.”

T’rin risked a glance around the room; she saw several heads nodding, though most just continued to watch Spock and Kirk. Nearly palpable curiosity hung thick over the room, and T’rin didn’t have to be telepathic to feel it. But she saw no intent for mischief or malice on anyone’s faces. Beside her, Sidney was practically vibrating with excitement—xe’d mentioned multiple times how interested xe was in Vulcan bonding culture, and T’rin had flat-out refused to speak of it with xem.

Kirk cleared his throat. “Good. Spock, take it away.”

Spock inclined his head, taking a small remote from Kirk’s hand to advance the projector in the front of the room.

“As we have briefly discussed before, Vulcans are telepaths to a certain extent. Such telepathic powers are largely based in physical contact. Touch telepathy is often conducted through the hands and fingers, which are the most psychically-sensitive part of a Vulcan’s body.”

Beside her, Sidney flinched. Xe’s eyes darted to T’rin’s hand, which xe had been holding not thirty seconds earlier. T’rin kept her eyes resolutely fixed on her instructors and ignored the olive flush that was surely visible on her cheeks, missing a matching pink blush on Sidney’s.

“Why didn’t you  _ say  _ anything?” Sidney hissed quietly.

“About what?” T’rin asked, matching xyr tone. Sidney’s hands flailed a little helplessly.

“About the touching! And the hands! I knew Vulcans didn’t like to be touched but I didn’t know it was because of  _ that! _ ”

“And it was my responsibility to inform you?” T’rin said cooly. If such a thing hadn’t come up in the years Sidney had spent in the company of a Vulcan, T’rin felt she was right to avoid addressing it as well. Sidney, obviously, had other thoughts on the matter.

“I don’t know, maybe! It kind of seems like a thing you should tell your  _ friend _ .”

That was as much of a conversation as they had time for, as Spock continued, “I bring this up as a way to introduce the concepts of mental bonds. It is imperative that Vulcans find a future mate at a young age. Such matches are made as a collaboration between Vulcan healers and parents. A loose, tentative mental bond is introduced between the young Vulcans of compatible minds, which is regarded as a betrothal, to be finalized after both parties are fully matured.”

Hearing her people’s bonding system laid out in front of forty attentive humans was strange to say the least. T’rin resisted the urge to fiddle with her stylus nervously. Sidney moved xyr leg closer to T’rin, bushing their pant legs together briefly. Illogically, this action did much toward calming T’rin’s restlessness.

Spock spoke of the initial bonding process, introducing mind-melds, of which her classmates were likely aware of and undoubtedly misinformed about.

Then he asked, “What questions do you have?”

T’rin had noticed early on in the semester that he asked for questions differently than her other professors. Most of the others would ask ‘are there any questions?’. The change in wording resulted in a 36.4% increase in clarifying questions and a 62.2% increase in related comments that facilitated further discussion. Usually, T’rin enjoyed the increase in class participation. She was often able to provide her own input on the subject, and she was confident her classmates benefited from her comments and questions. However, today she dreaded it. Without a doubt, someone would ask—

“So, arranged marriages are still happening on Vulcan today? Like this is still a thing in modern life?” The question came several seats to her left. The asker’s eyes cut to T’rin, who refused to acknowledge her presence. Beside her, Sidney bristled, and T’rin tapped xyr leg with her stylus to stop xem from standing up and addressing the asker.

“Unless special circumstances prevent it, yes. It is as common an occurrence as enrollment in school is to humans,” Spock answered, calm as ever. However, behind him, Kirk’s shoulders tensed up. He opened his mouth, but Spock cut in smoothly, “Cadet, I would like to remind you that your peers should be treated as such; the presence or absence of a Vulcan in this class should not make a difference in your questions.”

“In layman’s terms,” Kirk said, looking visibly more relaxed now that Spock had intervened, “Don’t pry into T’rin’s life about this, or about anything else she doesn’t want to talk about. She isn’t a specimen for you to examine, she is a Starfleet cadet.”

The asker mumbled out something that was likely an apology and sat down. Spock said, “If your curiosity demands personal anecdotes or evidence, you may direct such inquiries to me instead. Now I ask again: what questions do you have?”

“Did you marry your fiancé?” another brave student asked. “Or do most couples break up before they get old enough to get married?”

“You have asked two questions, cadet. I will answer both. To your first: no, I did not. My initial bond was with a Vulcan woman named T’pring. She endeavored to break our bond before we could finalize it. To your second: most bonds formed in childhood are solidified in adulthood. The Vulcan healers are quite adept at pairing compatible minds.”

“Wait, what happened with T’pring? Why did she break up with you?”

“I would not presume to speak for someone who is not here. Suffice it to say that we each sought bonds in others, and I find myself grateful for her decision to part us.”

T’rin decided the remainder of the conversation—and indeed the lecture—would not be of significance to her. If necessary, she could get notes from Sidney or Spock. Instead of listening to the simplified explanation of mind-melds, family bonds, and mental links, T’rin turned her attention inward. For the first time in several weeks, she examined the weak link that rested, dormant, at the edges of her mind. Her bond with Strak was so unobtrusive she often forgot about it completely. It responded to the mental prodding, and T’rin got the impression Strak was confused, but not annoyed, by the sudden intrusion. The bond wasn’t developed enough to pass emotions clearly through it, only vague impressions. He prodded back, causing T’rin to poke harder. They traded a few more mental jabs before Strak got bored of it and stopped responding. 

The physical distance between herself and Strak made their link weaker, but it was still stronger than most Vulcans their ages. T’rin had been told time and time again that their bond was the strongest match that had been made in her generation. It was something she did not quite take pride in, as she had very little to do with it, but some sort of satisfaction in knowing. Strak was still on Vulcan, the son of a merchant and a manufacturer, studying to take over one of his parent’s trades. He would make a good bondmate one day; steady and reliable. His innate curiosity was steadied by his mild personality, far more successfully than T’rin was ever able to. What little time they had spent together in their youth was characterized by a feeling of calm and belonging. T’rin considered him one of few Vulcans who truly understood her. He did not object to her choice to attend Starfleet, which elevated him above her parents in her mind. The beginnings of affection rested between them, humming with quiet promise of a pleasant future.

For the first time, she wondered what would happen between them. His first pon farr was years away, surely, but that wouldn’t always be true. When the time came, would she return to Vulcan without hesitation and bind her katra to his? Would he wish to seek a bond with another instead, as T’pring did? Would  _ she? _

She was jolted out of her thoughts by Sidney tapping the desk next to her hand.

“Earth to T’rin! Come in, T’rin,” xe teased. T’rin blinked. Class was over, and had been for nearly three minutes. The room was nearly empty, and even Spock and Kirk were gone.

“I apologize. I was… ‘lost in thought’, as you would say.”

“No kidding. Spock slipped up and called Kirk by some Vulcan pet name and you didn’t even blink.”

“What did he call him?” T’rin asked, curious in spite of herself. “Vulcan is not a language known for an overwhelming number of pet names. I’m not sure I even know of any.”

“Don’t laugh at me for my pronunciation, but it was like…  _ tuh-hi-luh.  _ Or something.”

T’rin’s stomach flipped at the word. Even with xyr terrible accent, hearing that word from Sidney did….something to her.

“T’hy’la,” T’rin corrected, hardly allowing the word to pass her lips.

“T’hy’la,” Sidney repeated, and T’rin’s stomach flipped again. “What does it mean?”

“An old word. It’s unacceptably romantic and emotional. Many Vulcans do not have an opportunity to call another by it in their lifetime.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Sidney pointed out.

“No,” T’rin agreed. She packed up her bag quickly, unable to look at Sidney for any length of time. “I am sorry, but I must leave.” 

She was out the door before Sidney could respond. Meditation, she thought, a few hours of quiet and perhaps a mug of tea. It was reasonable, she told herself, doing her best to ignore the unexplainable, unsettling feeling stuck in her throat.

—

Mediation did little to help. Neither did tea, or working on her research paper, or completing her coursework, or sparring with some poor human cadet who had agreed to be her partner in the campus gym. No matter what she did, all she could think about was Sidney’s voice murmuring “t’hy’la”, xyr warm brown eyes, the memory of xyr strong hand squeezing hers.

She managed to push Sidney out of her head, only to be faced with a memory of Strak, the day she left for Starfleet. Despite the early hour of her shuttle, Strak had walked her from her house to the shuttle station. As he was staying planetside, it was unlikely they would meet again before his pon farr drew them back to each other. A sudden rush of recklessness had prompted her to extend two fingers toward him rather than offering him the ta’al at their parting. He had glanced around to assure their solitude, and pressed his fingers against hers. A spark flitted between them, breathless, before he pulled away.

T’rin’s fingers twitched, remembering the surprise and pleasure that came from Strak, mirrored and amplified by her own.

T’rin thought talking might help—that was how she had solved the problem of her exhaustion. But talking to Spock seemed like an ask too large for her fragile, confused mental state. No, there was only one person she thought might be able to help right now.

—

When she knocked on Kirk’s office door, it opened right away, as if Kirk had been waiting for someone to knock. But the confusion on his face told her that he clearly hadn’t expected T’rin to be on the other side.

“Oh, hello! Come in, T’rin, it’s good to see you.”

“And you,” T’rin returned politely. She loitered just inside the doorway.

Kirk gestured for her to come in anyway. “Take a seat.”

“Are you expecting someone?” T’rin asked, hoping his answer would allow her to postpone this visit. Kirk shrugged. 

“Spock usually comes in around now to have lunch with me. But he said he might be held up by an advising meeting today. Either way, take a seat, and you can tell me to what I owe the honor of this visit.”

T’rin took her time in sitting down and tucking her bag neatly under her seat. Kirk waited with his usual patience. 

“I find myself torn,” T’rin began, “between two people whom I regard as important to me.”

Kirk raised his eyebrows. He leaned forward, folding his hands. 

“Just to be clear, T’rin, am I your professor right now, or am I Jim?”

“Jim,” T’rin answered after a moment of hesitation. “If you do not mind.”

Kirk nodded. He sat back again, lifting his hands to indicate she should continue when she was ready.

“It is difficult to explain. I feel a pull from each of them, and each pull comes from a different place. One, I find, ties me to the life I have on Vulcan. He is comfortable and reliable, and I am sure he will be a satisfactory bondmate. I find comfort in our established bond, and know that my path with him would bring contentment. The other ties me to my life in Starfleet, which equally as important as my identity as a Vulcan, and prompts many unexpected, yet not unpleasant, emotions. What were the circumstances of your first bonding with Spock?”

Kirk blinked at the non sequitur. “Uh. I’m not sure that’s a story I should tell, either as your professor or a stand-in guardian.”

“I will rephrase,” T’rin said, ignoring both the implication Spock and Kirk’s first bonding was sexual in nature and the discovery that Kirk, at least, viewed her in a familial way. She would examine the latter at a later time, and the former she would never, ever think about again. “Did either you or Spock experience feelings of hesitation or uncertainty about your relationship?”

Kirk blew out a breath of air, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, of course we did, T’rin. Me and Spock, we….we were a long time coming, I think. Stubborn asses, the both of us. We moved fairly quickly after we actually realized our feelings were reciprocated, but yeah, there was a good amount of hesitation and uncertainty. I think that’s how it is in any relationship. Especially since human-Vulcan couples were so rare and…not always seen in a positive light at the time. Things have gotten better lately, but back then it was pretty rough.”

“Yes, but then you both decided to commit. How?” T’rin pressed.

“Hmm. I guess the more time we spent together, the easier it was. Once we got past the awkwardness of a new relationship, everything fell into place. We work well together, and we continued to work well together, and then he asked if I would be his bondmate and I asked him if he would be my husband, and we both said yes. I think the moment  _ I _ committed, when I realized we were making the right decision by being together, was when I visited Vulcan with Spock, about a year after we got together. I had met his parents before, but that was as Spock’s friend and captain. It was different as his partner. His mother, Amanda, took me aside and asked if I had any questions about marrying a Vulcan. She seemed to know that Spock and I were in it for the long haul before we even did. Having that assurance from her made it easy to let go of my fears and really, really love Spock with everything I had. Does that help at all?”

“Unknown. I will need to think on it more.”

“T’rin, I’ll always be happy to talk about stuff like this with you, but what made you come here? Have you been thinking about this for a while?”

“No,” T’rin said. “It was your lecture this morning, and the instance of Spock calling you  _ t’hy’la  _ that made me start thinking about my relationships.”

Kirk shook his head. “So...this morning?”

“Affirmative.” 

“You Vulcans, always charging in headfirst,” Kirk muttered, more to himself than to T’rin. She tilted her head to the side, and Kirk waved her off.

“Listen, T’rin, this is new to you—the situation and the emotions, both. It’s going to be confusing for a while, and you’re going to have to  _ let it.  _ You can’t expect to have a logical answer so soon. Up until this morning, did you even consider your feelings for either of these people to be romantic?”

“No, such a thing did not cross my mind.”

“Exactly. You have to ease into it, my dear.”

“I suppose this makes sense,” T’rin said slowly. She folded her hands in her lap, still unsatisfied.

“You don’t like not having an answer, do you?” Kirk asked fondly.

“No. It is unsatisfactory to have an unresolved problem, especially a personal one.”

Kirk nodded, eyes soft like he understood her frustration personally.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

T’rin shook her head. She stood, sliding her backpack over her shoulders again. “Only…if you were in my position right now, who would you choose?” 

Kirk tapped his chin, considering. 

“Well, I don’t have all the relevant data, as Spock would point out. I think I’m always going to have to root for humanity, but that’s just my human bias. I think I’m a better human for marrying Spock, and I think he’s a better Vulcan for marrying me. But I also know how important Vulcan bonds are, and the significance of following tradition. It’s a tough call, T’rin, and one that ultimately belongs to you.”

“I see. Thank you for your input,” T’rin said sincerely. Just as she reached the door, Kirk held up a hand. 

“And T’rin? Here’s just something to think about: you may not have to choose. Maybe life will take you in another direction than you’re expecting. You could choose not to marry, or you could marry someone who isn’t either of them, or you could marry both of them. What I’m saying is that there are a lot of options out there, kiddo. Don’t get caught up in needing to decide now. You’re young. You have time.”

T’rin didn’t turn back to face him. She was afraid of what her face might betray. But her voice was steady and calm as she said, “Thank you…Jim. This has been a most productive visit.”

She caught a glimpse of his smile as the door slid shut behind her. 

—

Despite what Kirk said, T’rin decided to put to rest the uncomfortable emotions. It was only logical—they were interfering with her life at Academy. She calculated that without a resolution to these feelings within the next 3.8 weeks, her grades would begin to see the effects of her distraction, which was an unacceptable course of action, considering that finals were 4.2 weeks away.

She sent a message to Strak requesting a video call meeting at his earliest convenience, not expecting to hear back from him for another day or more, considering the time difference between San Francisco and Vulcan and his busy schedule.

The answer, however, came less than two hours after she’d sent it. T’rin forced herself to finish the reading for her command basics class instead of answering his reply. A few minutes would have little overall impact on the outcome, she reminded herself firmly, turning the page. Sidney, lounging on the floor of T’rin’s room with several books open and watching some sort of comedic video, said, “That’s the second time your PADD has chimed. You gonna read it?”

“It would be improper to reply instantaneously, considering how long I waited for the initial response,” T’rin said. 

“Oh, so you’re playing hard to get?” Sidney said knowingly.

“Playing what?” T’rin asked, her forehead wrinkling.

“Never mind. Who is it?”

“My future bondmate,” T’rin replied. A loud clatter distracted her from her reading; Sidney’s PADD had fallen from xyr hands and was lying facedown on the floor.

“Your  _ what? _ ” xe screeched.

“Did you not pay attention in lecture today? Professor Spock said that nearly all Vulcans were betrothed. Therefore, it would follow that I would be as well.”

“Yeah, but like….you’re  _ you.  _ I just never thought—I just never thought about you that way.”

“In what way? Following the traditions of my people?” T’rin asked, perhaps a bit more heatedly than she needed to.

“I mean,” Sidney said, hands waving worriedly, “you  _ are _ kind of a rebel, right? Coming to Starfleet and all, I thought you’d get out of that arranged marriage crap.”

Silence rang between them. T’rin swallowed hard. She stood up and crossed to her door, which swished open.

“Please leave.”

“Hey, no, no, I’m sorry!” Sidney said. “Come on, T’rin, I just meant—”

“Please. I wish to be alone,” T’rin said, which was not entirely the truth but close enough to it to pass.

Sidney gathered xyr belongings slowly. “T’rin, I—sorry,” xe finished lamely. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

After Sidney left, T’rin took a few moments to collect herself. Then she picked up her PADD and headed off campus.

Crackers greeted her at the door as he always did, and T’rin took inordinate pleasure in that pattern holding true. She picked him up and smushed her face into his side, something she’d seen Kirk do on a number of occasions but never saw the logic behind. She still didn’t, but it did make her feel a little bit better.

“T’rin?” a voice asked. T’rin lifted her face from Cracker’s side guiltily.

“Spock, I apologize for coming over unannounced.”

“It is no problem,” Spock assured her. “It is clear you are in emotional distress. I must confess I am pleased my home has afforded you enough comfort in the past that you seek it out in your time of distress. As always, my home is yours.”

“I thank you,” T’rin said awkwardly.

“But that is not important right now. What is the cause of your distress? As your mentor, it is my duty to assist you through such problems.”

“Your duty?” T’rin repeated. Spock lifted his eyebrows. 

“I see the error in my wording. It is not only my duty, but my privilege.”

T’rin sat down on the couch, bringing Crackers with her. Spock sat beside her, a respectable distance away.

“The number of highly emotional conversations I have had in the past few months is unacceptable,” T’rin said.

Spock’s lip twitched. “You will find, T’rin, that such conversations do not lessen with time. As your life becomes more complex, so will your emotions. It is not weakness to feel emotion, regardless of what you have been taught. Weakness is to allow emotion to control your actions to the extent you cannot live as you are intended to. Some interpret this to mean that they should feel nothing; no fear, no pain, no love. But without fear to caution, one is reckless. Without pain to discourage, one behaves unhealthily. Without love to motivate, one lives without drive. Such a life is in no way logical.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I posit that most Vulcans feel things more deeply and fully than humans, but those who lead productive and effective lives know how to use them to their own advantage, set them aside when the situation calls for it, and to control their actions. I have witnessed these traits developing in you many times.”

Instead of answering, T’rin asked, “may I make some tea?”

Spock nodded his assent. T’rin was surprised to find she knew exactly where the kettle and mugs where, and how to prepare the Vulcan blend of tea to both of their specifications—hers with lemon and Spock’s black. And when had this apartment become so familiar to her that she treated it as her own? She took down a mug that wasn’t bought for her but that she alone used. Kirk had written  _ T’rin  _ on the underside with a black marker that refused to wash off. Her hand ghosted over a similar mug of a different color that still bore the word  _ Sidney  _ in the same cramped handwriting. She passed over it to take down Spock’s Starfleet mug instead.

Settled with their mugs, T’rin found it difficult to begin her conversation.

“I have contacted—,” she started, then abandoned that topic. “I fought with Sidney today,” she said instead.

“Tell me what happened,” Spock prompted, taking the change in topic in stride. 

“We were studying in my room when the topic of your lecture came up. I brought up my betrothed in passing, and Sidney reacted badly. Xe said that xe thought I would…”

T’rin pressed her lips together, recalling it word-for-word. “‘Get out of that arranged marriage crap’. Xyr words.”

Spock stayed quiet for a few moments.

“Spock,” T’rin whispered miserably. “I do not know why I am so upset. I know you want me to arrive at my own conclusions, but I need your help.”

“The thought experiment we did to discover the root of your exhaustion problem is not applicable here. This is not what we call a ‘teachable moment’.”

“Then what is it?” 

“I believe Jim would term it a ‘bonding moment’.”

They shared what would be a smile, or what passed as a smile for T’rin, which really was just a crinkle around her eyes.

“So,” Spock continued quietly. “If I may hazard a guess, you are upset because someone you consider a friend insulted your heritage, distanced you from your culture, and expressed disgust with something that is essential to your identity as a Vulcan. Is this accurate?”

“Yes,” T’rin said, relieved to have her feelings laid out so clearly. A list of things she could go through, one by one, dissect, and examine.

“Humans are self-centered. They believe their way of doing things is correct. For all I cherish Jim, there were many times on our missions together when he insisted upon interfering in alien cultures to make them more like humanity. I am sure that Sidney meant no offense to you, and was merely seeing the situation through a human perspective.”

“It still…” T’rin started, and then stopped. Spock nodded. 

“I understand. Will you stay here tonight? A full night of rest and a little extra meditation might help settle your mind.”

“Thank you,” T’rin said.

“I will be around if you require—or want—anything else,” Spock assured her, and left her sitting on the couch to think.

A while later, T’rin knocked on the doorframe to Spock’s study. 

“I am tired of making compromises,” she said finally. “I have made more than have been made for me. The only compromises I have truly benefited from have come from you and Jim.” 

“Another example of humanity’s egocentrism—their expectations that we will adapt to their way of living, rather than the other way around.” 

Spock inclined his head. “Maybe it’s time for you to decide which compromises you wish to maintain. With both the humans you live around and even, if you wish, with your Vulcan lifestyle as well.”

T’rin studied her mentor, wearing Vulcan robes in a San Francisco apartment, surrounded by five illogical cats, bonded to a highly emotional human, Vulcan food tempered for a human palate in his kitchen, and an extra bedroom equipped to handle a grieving teenager or a lost Vulcan academy student.  _ Yes,  _ she thought,  _ he’s done it. Made compromises and refused compromises and tailored a life to fit him just right. _

“I would like that,” she said.

“Go meditate,” Spock said. “I will come get you for dinner when it is ready. I’ll make Jim something separate. Gespar tonight, traditional.”

T’rin lifted an eyebrow. She almost pointed out that serving a breakfast food at dinner was a rather human thing to do, but let it drop. It had been ages since she’d had Gespar, a ‘comfort food’ by human standards. So she just thanked Spock and returned to the guest bedroom that she’d started to think of as hers.


	3. A New Arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! just letting yall know that next week will be the last update. the final chapter is significantly shorter than the others have been, so i'll be posting that and the epilogue at the same time. to anyone who's gotten this far, thank you very much for reading! kudos and comments are always appreciated and treasured. i know this fic is more OC-heavy than most, but these kids are close to my heart and if yall like them even a little, that just makes me ridiculously happy <3

By the next morning, she had decided to forgive Sidney. Of the few changes she’d resolved to make in her life, allowing herself to understand—and even experience—emotions without shame was among the biggest. Outwardly, little would change, but within her, she would no longer punish herself for feeling. As Spock had said, it was about finding the balance rather than forcing everything down. 

The other changes were minor—refusing the causal touches of unfamiliar humans that she’d been living with before, for instance, and not hiding her pointed ears under long hair. Jim had helped with the latter the night before, his clippers transforming her shoulder-length hair into something he called a ‘pixie’ cut.

“It suits you,” Jim had said proudly, as he was putting the ‘finishing touches’ on the hair. T’rin blushed; with his hand still touching her scalp, she could feel just  _ how  _ proud he was of her. She hadn’t felt pride or affection that strong even from her parents. 

She was a Starfleet cadet, yes, but she was also Vulcan, and she would not shy away from it anymore for the comfort of her human peers.

She returned to campus in time for her 0900 lecture. She was aware of the number of eyes on her as she sat in the front of the lecture, but it did not bother her as she had assumed it would. Jim’s goodbye rang in her ears (“Go get ‘em, kid. Make them make compromises for  _ you  _ this time _ , _ ” and Spock’s much calmer, “I wish you luck. We will be here if you need us,”) and she allowed herself a small smile.

After class, T’rin returned to her room. She still hadn’t answered--or even looked at-- Strak’s message from the previous day. She set aside her homework, which was steadily piling up on her desk, and set up her PADD.

_ T’rin,  _ his message said.  _ I suspected you would wish to talk in regards to the disturbance in our bond. I will be available at your convenience. _

A small spark of nervousness rested in her stomach, and for once she didn’t berate herself for it. Instead she let out a deep breath to acknowledge it, and called Strak. 

True to his word, he picked up the call quickly. It was good to see his face, T’rin realized, and did not attempt to smother the relief in her eyes when his picture cleared up and he came into view.

“Live long and prosper,” he said, lifting his hand. T’rin copied the gesture, repeating the greeting back to him. 

“Before we begin to discuss the reason for my call, I wish to apologize for fiddling with our bond yesterday.”

“It is of no consequence,” Strak assured her. “The bond is only half mine, and so you may do with it what you please. A reminder of your presence in my mind is never unwelcome,” he added, a little hesitantly. In response, T’rin poked at the bond. Surprise registered on Strak’s face, and T’rin’s own eyes lit up with mischief. Strak returned the poke, his face impassive once again. But his eyes shone with the same kind of recklessness that made him return her kiss those months ago. 

This was the kind of thing that made T’rin and Strak so compatible—they shared curiosity, mischief, and he followed whatever lead she gave him. 

Strak cleared his throat. “What is the reason for your call?” he asked, steering the conversation back on track (logical, considering how busy they both were). T’rin schooled her face, preparing for the conversation ahead.

“Strak, first you must know that I am pleased to be your betrothed. I find we are complementary to each other.”

“I agree,” Strak returned. “I have missed your physical presence on Vulcan, as well as your mental one.”

“This is in part the reason for my call. I have started to think of another in the same way I think of you. I find that both you and xe are important, if not vital, to my personal happiness. Whether this will hold true in the future, I do not know. But as of right now, this is how it is: I care deeply for both of you and do not wish to choose one over the other.”

T’rin took a deep breath. “As you are my bond and I have known you longer, it is only right to ask you first. If you do not object, I would ask you to add xem to our bond. If this is unacceptable, another option is to allow me to form a secondary bond with xem, unconnected to ours. The third option is to refuse. I will remain your bond for the time being, though I may find it necessary to challenge at your upcoming pon farr in order to remain with xem. As of now, there is a 48.7% chance that I will challenge, and a 51.3% chance that I will not."

To Strak’s credit, if he felt anger or shock at her unorthodox proposal, he did not show it. 

“Allow me a moment to consider,” he requested, and T’rin nodded her agreement. While he thought, T’rin studied him. It would truly be saddening if he chose the third option. She did care for him, and the strength of their half-formed bond was enough to prove they belonged to each other, at least in part. To destroy such a thing in its infancy would be a loss.

“This human; xe brings you contentment?” Strak asked finally. His voice gave nothing away. T’rin nodded.

“More than that, xe brings me happiness. As you do.”

“A good bondmate will strive to bring the other happiness. If xe does this for you, it is illogical for me to deny it. However, as I do not know the human, I am reluctant to declare xem an addition to our bond.”

“And if you were to meet xem?” T’rin asked. Hope flared in her chest, and she relished in it. Strack tilted his head, thinking again. T’rin waited for him, allowing him all the time he needed. Truthfully, she was overjoyed he was even considering it, and happy he was putting so much thought into the decision. Jim would be proud of him, at least, for not ‘charging in headfirst’ as she had done.

“It would depend on our compatibility and xe’s own feelings on the matter, but I do not object to a triad bond. It is not traditional, but I find many things about you are not, and that has not diminished my regard for you in the least. If any, it has increased it. Logically, this further deviation from tradition will continue to increase my regard for you. And while I do not know if it will work in practice, the theory of having two bondmates to rely on and rely on me pleases me greatly.”

The tension T’rin had been carrying in her shoulders rushed out of her. Yes, this was what she appreciated about Strak; ready to adapt to any situation, prepared to provide for anyone who needed it. He’d been that way since they were children. The first thing he had used their newly-forged mental link for was to send her comfort and reassurance in the face of this new unknown, and a promise that he would treat her with kindness and respect. He had never gone back on that promise in all the years of their acquaintance. 

“Thank you, Strak. The elders chose well when they paired me with you.”

A blush settled high on Strak’s cheeks. Instead of responding to that, he said, “Would you tell me more about this human? I wish to meet xem in the near future, but for now, your description will suffice.”

T’rin settled back into her chair. “Xyr name is Sidney--a human, as I mentioned, a year older than the pair of us. Xe has made my life here infinitely more complex, but ultimately more satisfying. I met xem on my first day here. Xe helped me find an illogically-named building on campus…”

Several hours later, T’rin had talked her voice sore. After describing, in detail, Sidney’s involvement in her life, conversation had turned to more general topics. T’rin had talked about taking classes from Spock (and discovered Strak regarded him as one of the most influential Vulcans of the age, something she found amusing) and Strak had talked about his life as a newly-established merchant. He was on Vulcan for now, but was considering joining a traveling starship to sell his wares. Taking with him reminded T’rin how satisfied she was with Strak’s company. No matter what happened with Sidney, her connection to Strak would likely stand strong through it all. It was comforting to know.

Though she could have continued to speak with him for at least an hour more, she regretfully informed him she must leave. 

Strak agreed, and asked if she would be available to continue their discussion later that day.

“Unlikely. I will talk with Sidney and give xem a similar proposition to the one I gave you. After my conversation with xem, and depending on the outcome, perhaps I can call tomorrow after my last class? It would be…” she did a quick calculation in her head, “2100 hours for you.”

“I am looking forward to it,” Strak said. Before she disconnected, he said, “T’rin, I wish to inform you that your new hairstyle is to my liking. It enhances your appearance greatly.”

T’rin touched her bangs self-consciously.

“Thank you, Strak. You look as pleasing as always. I will see you tomorrow.” He held up two fingers rather than the ta’al. T’rin pressed two of her own against the screen, suddenly wishing the lightyears between them weren’t so far.

She disconnected, and wasted another four minutes reflecting on his last statement. Spock would be proud of how happy she was allowing herself to be. 

—

The conversation with Sidney did not go quite as smoothly as the one with Strak did.

“Wait, hold on,” Sidney said, finally ceasing xyr pacing. T’rin pursed her lips, waiting for the actual question to come.

“Ok, let me get this straight. You—first of all, you just forgive me for the terrible thing I said to you all of  _ yesterday  _ without even needing to hear an apology or anything.”

“Correct,” T’rin repeated. “An apology is unnecessary. I already forgave you, as your logic for lashing out was sound.”

“Ok, so let’s just ignore that for a second. The real reason you wanted to talk to me wasn’t to talk about our fight, but to  _ propose _ to me? Like, propose  _ marriage _ ?”

“Incorrect. The bond I am suggesting is not a marriage proposal, but rather the promise of a betrothal at a later date. Really, you should pay closer attention in class. Spock explained this less than a week ago.”

Sidney held up one insistent pointer finger.

“And! And you’ve already talked to your future bondmate about this—and he’s the reason we fought in the first place, I might remind you—and he’s  _ fine _ with it?”

“He is eager to meet you and decide if the bond should be a triad or two singular ones.”

“Wait. What?”

“There are three scenarios that can come of this: one, the three of us form a triad bond. Two, I maintain my bond with Strak and form a separate one with you. Three, I do not bond with you or alter my bond with Strak until his or my blood fever forces us to decide.”

“Until his or your  _ what now? _ ” 

“It is a matter that we do not talk about outside of those who are involved. Should the occasion arise, Strak and I will explain it fully.”

Sidney threw up xyr arms, looking confused and defeated. “Is there any option that doesn’t include bonding? Can’t Vulcans just casually date?”

“Not typically,” T’rin said, frowning. “I do not find much appeal in the concept.”

“Listen, T’rin, I like you. I like you a lot and I’d like to _ be _ with you. But this is all…just a little too much for me.”

“Oh.”

The problem with allowing herself to feel things fully was that disappointment was so much sharper now. T’rin tried not to show it on her face. She must have failed, because Sidney sat beside her. Xyr hands hovered around T’rin’s, unsure if xe could touch her. Softly, xe said, “Hey, hey, I’m not saying no. I’m just saying I need a little time, okay? Not no, just not yet. Okay?”

T’rin had promised herself no more compromises, but maybe she could make one more. “Alright,” she said, matching Sidney’s quiet tone. “We can try it the human way—dating first. No bonds needed.”

“Really?” Sidney asked, grabbing her hand. Xyr happiness was infectious, and T’rin smiled.

“Yes, really.”

“T’rin, I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?”

“You already are,” T’rin said, lifting their hands. Sidney blushed.

“Shit, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“It is alright,” T’rin assured xem. “And you may kiss me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Sidney murmured, and pressed xyr lips against T’rin’s. 

Sidney pulled back after a few endless seconds. “So when do I meet my new boyfriend?” xe asked, wiggling xyr eyebrows. T’rin ducked her head, resting it against Sidney’s shoulder in wordless relief.

“Right now, if you wish to. He’s waiting on a call from me,” she replied.

“I do,” Sidney said gently. Then, breaking into a dazzling smile, xe flopped on xyr back on T’rin’s bed. 

“Geez. If every Vulcan who fights with a friend responds by storming out and coming back with a sick new look and a proposal for a threesome, I get why most Vulcans don’t let themselves get mad. I’m just teasing,” xe added, as an afterthought.

“I know,” T’rin said, the feeling of xyr happiness still buzzing on her lips.

—

The last month of the semester passed as quickly as the first. T’rin was busy with classes, her now-regular dinners with Spock and Kirk, and the time-consuming prospect of dating two people, one by a considerably long distance. Nearly every day held some sort of communication between them, either by video call when they had time, or a mental poke if they didn’t. T’rin and Strak’s bond grew stronger with every passing day, as did T’rin’s longing to see him again in person. Sidney couldn’t understand the pull of a partially complete bond without experiencing one xemself, but xe did grow much closer with Strak through regular calls between them. One day, about three weeks after they had agreed to try dating the human way, T’rin had dropped by Sidney’s room to see if xe wanted to study together, but stopped just shy of the door. Through the wall, she could hear two voices—Sidney’s familiar warm lilt, and Strak’s just as familiar rumble, slightly dampened by the speakers it came through. If she strained, she could hear what they were saying.

“…and T’rin is so much, I don’t know, lighter, I guess? Since we started this. I think she’s really happy, dating us.”

“I am pleased to hear this. I am also satisfied in her choice in second partner. Though the time I have known you is significantly shorter than the time I have known T’rin, I can understand what draws her to you. I confess I am similarly drawn.”

“That is…that is really sweet,” Sidney said, and T’rin could imagine the hand pressed against xyr chest, a gesture that somehow indicated happiness. “I know she’s coming to see you over break. I wish I could come.”

“You cannot?”

“No. My brother…he’s really sick, and he needs me to take care of him. We—I thought he was dead for the longest time, but he’s not. Sometimes I wonder if he wished he was. It’s been really hard on both of us.”

“I grieve with thee,” came Strak’s response, his voice grave and weighty.

“Thanks. Hey, for the record? I’m drawn to you, also. I don't know what’s appropriate to say to Vulcans, dating-wise, but I’m glad we are.”

“Yes, I owe much of my recent personal satisfaction to T’rin for bringing us together.”

Silence for a moment. Then, Strak’s voice, “May I ask a question?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I, of course, cannot currently participate in the physical actions associated with dating. What is it like?”

“Oh, god. It’s nice. It’s really nice. T’rin is a really good kisser, both in Vulcan and human ways. You’ll see this winter break.”

“I have never been kissed in the human way, though I have shared a Vulcan kiss with T’rin before.”

“I wish I could show you,” Sidney said. “I’ll have her give you a kiss for me. A human one.”

T’rin turned quietly and left the hallway. With how much she was blushing, there would be no way to play off her eavesdropping. That was alright—the conversation had given her a lot to think about. 

She had worried, these past few weeks, that she was the only factor connecting Sidney and Strak, and that they both secretly resented her for not choosing one over the other. But given the conversation she’d overheard, that didn’t seem to be an issue. She thought having two partners who cared for each other was almost as good as them both caring for her. 

Spock was right—love really was illogical.

—

T’rin spent less time preparing for her finals than she did preparing to visit Vulcan during the weeks between the fall and spring semesters. Of the two, the tests were much less nerve-wracking. In a call with Strak at what was two am for her and midday for him, she asked, “What will my parents think of how much I have changed? Just five months away from Vulcan and I have adopted emotionalism, started dating a human, and cut my hair off.”

“It will likely be shock for them,” Strak said. “If you find you are in need of comfort or protection, you may rely on me. I have since moved from my parent’s house and have secured a small house of my own above my shop.”

“I thank you, Strak, though I truly hope such a thing won’t be necessary.”

“As do I,” Strak said. He turned the conversation to kinder topics, like his business and T’rin’s classes. T’rin promised to bring home her textbooks for the semester for him to read and disconnected the call, calmer than she was when she called him.

Between her finals, she had plenty to do. Sidney’s brother had been released into xyr care, so she and Spock spent an afternoon helping them move into a small apartment. At first Sidney protested letting them do all the hard work, but it quickly became clear that xe was more hindrance than help when it came to moving heavy furniture, and xe sheepishly bowed out. Xe insisted on cooking a housewarming dinner for everyone that night, though the apartment was much too small for five. Sidney and T’rin sat side by side on the floor, plates in laps, while Spock, Jim, and Andrew sat at the table. Andrew was quiet, probably overwhelmed by the number of new people, but relaxed as the night went on. He even teased his sibling a few times, bringing up stories of xyr rebellious preteen years. T’rin held Sidney’s hand and felt xyr bashful happiness clear as light.

Between Sidney’s apartment and Spock and Jim’s, T’rin was hardly ever on campus aside from her classes and study time. Next year, she thought she might forgo a dorm room altogether. Whether that meant finding her own apartment or moving into someone else’s was yet unclear.

Her internal definition of ‘home’ had expanded: first from the hot sands of Vulcan to the muggy air of San Francisco and her small dorm room, then further to a pair of apartments filled with familiar food and cats and people.

When she and Sidney had dinner with Spock and Jim, the meal was usually filled with tall tales from their adventurous days, courtesy of Jim. Spock occasionally cut in to correct a particularly ridiculous exaggeration, but for the most part, he seemed content to sit back and listen to his bondmate narrate their shared past. T’rin watched the soft light in his eyes and hoped that she could have this, one day. Under the table, Sidney’s foot was hooked around her ankle.

—

Spock, Jim, and Sidney were all there to see T’rin off to Vulcan. Jim insisted on carrying her suitcase, which was illogical since she would have to carry it off the transport shuttle herself, and she was perfectly capable of carrying it without assistance. Jim just told her it was a human thing and to let him do this. He ruffled her hair (freshly cut in anticipation of the weeks away from Jim’s clippers) and winked. “Have a good time with the other boyfriend, alright? Bring him around sometime, if you can.”

“I will. Please inform Crackers that I will not find a different cat to meditate with in his absence.”

“Will do, kid. See you next semester!”

Spock handed her a sealed envelope. “I have written a letter to your parents, should they object to the charges you have undergone at Academy. It will not fix everything, but it should help somewhat.”

“Thank you,” T’rin said, tucking the letter safely into her breast pocket. “I thank you for enrolling me in Introduction to Vulcan. It was, as you said, beneficial to me.” 

She pulled a small notebook out her backpack and offered it to him. “Here are some changes I would recommend in your next textbook revision.”

Spock took the notebook, nodding seriously. “I appreciate your input, T’rin. Have a safe journey back to our homeland.”

He and Jim nodded once more at her and walked a little distance away, presumably to give Sidney and T’rin some measure of privacy to say goodbye.

“Hey, don’t forget about me over there, yeah?” Sidney said, plastering on one of those ridiculous fake smiles humans saved for vulnerable moments. 

“It is highly unlikely I would forget about you,” T’rin reminded xem.

“I know, but you’ll be spending all that time with Strak….I’m just saying, don’t go forming any bonds without me around. I would hate to miss out on that.”

T’rin looked up sharply. “Does this mean you have accepted my offer to form a preliminary bond?”

Sidney smiled. “We’ll talk more when you get back, but right now? All signs point to yes.”

Quite on impulse, T’rin grabbed Sidney’s collar and yanked xem down for a kiss. Sidney made a sound of surprise, but quickly returned the kiss. Xyr arms wrapped around T’rin’s waist, and that was enough to jolt T’rin out of it. She pulled away. 

“Now is not the time nor place for this,” she whispered guiltily. Sidney released her immediately. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Save it for when you get back.”

T’rin nodded.

“Hey,” Sidney said. “Before you go….” xe held up a clumsy imitation of the ta’al, and said, just as clumsily, “ _ Dif-tor heh smusma. _ ” 

T’rin bit her lip to contain her smile. She touched her fingers against Sidney’s and said, “live long and prosper, Sidney. I will see you in a matter of weeks.”

“See you soon,” Sidney replied. The doors of the transport shuttle slid shut, cutting off T’rin’s view of her little mostly-human family. How funny it was to leave one home behind in order to visit another.

—

The hot, dry air of Vulcan hit T’rin the moment she stepped off the transport shuttle. She took a deep breath, the arid scent of burning sand a better welcome home than she’d expected. Suddenly, T’rin felt out of place in her Academy uniform, and set out to her neighborhood in hopes of changing before she met with Strak. She poked at the bond to inform him that she was back on planet, and was rewarded by an instant reply. The walk to her parents’ dwelling was short, but T’rin took her time. After the cold and fog on Earth, she needed a few minutes of the heat to soak into her bones and warm her up.

Her parents were waiting for her by the door. She lifted her hand. “Mother, Father. Live long and prosper.”

“Live long and prosper,” Mother said in return. Father said nothing. She nodded at them and followed them inside. No small talk, then, and no welcome home. After months of receiving both upon her entrance to Spock and Jim’s apartment, it felt strange to have neither. She did like the simplicity of Vulcan greetings, but found herself waiting for something she knew wouldn’t come.

She stayed in her old room just long enough to change. The robes in her closet were a little dusty, but they would do. They were both comfortable and comforting in their weight. T’rin thought she might take some back with her to Academy after break—she hadn’t before, so as to not draw attention to the fact that she was Vulcan, but now, it might be nice. Sidney had expressed interest in both seeing T’rin in them and trying them on xemself. She decided she would be able to fit a few robes in her suitcase, provided she left behind last semester’s textbooks in their place.

On her way out, she encountered her mother in the main room.

“Mother,” she said.

“Where are you going?” Mother asked. 

“I wish to see Strak,” T’rin said, and stopped herself from saying more. Mother raised an eyebrow. 

“I do not see the logic in this. It is midday and Strak will likely be busy with his shop. He would not be able to visit with you now.”

T’rin started edging for the door. If she actually tried to address Mother’s concerns, she wouldn’t get to Strak before nightfall.

“He requested for me to come over as soon as possible upon my return. It would be illogical to keep him waiting.”

“I—” 

“I will be back before the evening, Mother,” T’rin said, deliberately cutting her off. She closed the door behind her quickly and sighed.

Some sort of conversation between her and her parents would have to take place. But that was a problem for later. For now, she had a boyfriend to see.

—

Strak’s shop was modestly busy. Half a dozen customers browsed his collection of handmade soaps, kitchen utensils, and fabrics. An eclectic mix of goods, but it was a highly profitable business for such a young merchant, and T’rin was proud of it, as if the shop was hers somehow. 

Strak stood behind the counter, waiting on his customers. When he saw her, his eyebrow ticked upwards, though it was unlikely anyone one else observed it. He tilted his head toward a fabric-covered door, and T’rin nodded. She slipped behind the curtain into the storeroom. 

Impatience and nerves flooded T’rin’s stomach, standing in Strak’s backroom, waiting for him to appear. She bounced lightly on her toes, a nervous trait she had picked up from Sidney. Strak wouldn't fault her if he saw her doing it, but it was likely he employed other Vulcans in his store, and the slight chance (18.4%) that one would enter the backroom in the next few minutes forced her to stay still. 

7.52 minutes later, a hand moved the fabric of the curtain and T’rin’s attention snapped to it. Strak came through a moment later, and T’rin could have more easily made her mother cry than stop the smile that split her face. (Though if her mother could  _ see  _ that smile, it might be a null point). Strak returned the smile with his eyes if not his mouth, and extended his hand towards her. She met his fingers happily, then grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer.

“Our other partner has requested I show you how humans kiss. Would you be amenable?”

“I would be, and I am,” Strak replied. T’rin pressed their mouths together carefully—he’d never kissed, as she’d overheard, and kissing did take a bit of practice to perfect. Against his lips, she smiled, and it made him pull back.

“What is it?”

“I must be spending too much time with humans, if my first instinct upon seeing you is not to wish you health or long life, but to kiss you.”

“Hardly. It was my first impulse as well,” Strak said. He kissed her again. In this, as in most things, Strak was both a fast learner and a dedicated pupil. 

“Do you think other bonded pairs experience this?” she asked, gesturing between them. “This pull to touch and be touched, and the inability to stay away when an opportunity presents itself?”

“I would not be able to say without a proper study,” Strak said. “But if I may employ a ‘gut feeling’ as Sidney would describe it…yes, I believe so.”

They stood like that, arms wrapped around each other, for a few more moments. Strak cleared his throat and said, “I have given the shop over to one of my employees. My apartment is just up the stairs, if you would care to stay for the afternoon?”

T’rin brushed her hands against his and nodded. 

—

The first thing they did upon arrival to Strak’s neat apartment was call Sidney. Xe cheered when xe saw them through the screen.

“Hell yeah, you have no idea how good it is to see you both,” Sidney said. “I’ve been so  _ bored  _ without you, T’rin. Spock is about to run me out of the house for bugging him while he tries to catch up on grading.”

“It is good to see you, too,” Strak said. 

Sidney sighed, a little dreamily, and said, “so, like, are all Vulcans hot, or did I just get lucky? Because you two standing next to each other is like….” xe didn’t finish the sentence, but T’rin understood the sentiment behind the statement.

“I find that Strak is the most aesthetically pleasing Vulcan I have yet met,” T’rin said. “Though I may be biased in that respect.”

“Nah,” Sidney said. Strak disagreed, however, saying, “It is T’rin that is the beauty among us. Many of our peers have regarded her as such for most of our childhood and adolescence, and I am in agreement.”

T’rin knew many perceived her as an unusual beauty. Her olive complexion made her stand out among the fairer skin of most of her peers, Strak included, but it was her most outstanding feature. She carried significantly more fat than most Vulcans of her age, especially in her face, and was shorter than average. It inspired a maternal need to coddle in adult Vulcans, but she hardly thought it made her desirable as a sexual or romantic partner. Strak, in contrast, was a prime example of Vulcan aesthetics, with his dark eyes and shining black hair, worn longer than most males in a neat, low ponytail. And Sidney, while not Vulcan at all, was exceedingly attractive. Xyr stature was somewhere between Strak’s tall, wiry build and T’rin’s soft strength, and dark brown eyes any Vulcan would find pleasing. Xe had started growing out xyr hair again, and xe had spent an evening teaching T’rin how to cornrow once it was long enough to do so.

T’rin thought, perhaps a little smugly, that even if others did not approve of their triad bond, no one could deny that the three of them made a handsome set. 

While she had been admiring her two, they had moved the conversation on.

“What do you think, T’rin?” Sidney asked. T’rin snapped her attention back.

“I apologize, I did not hear your comment. I was…contemplating the attractiveness of yourself and Strak in comparison with my own.”

She hesitated. “I am not skilled in the practice of giving compliments, and I was trying to word an acceptable one.”

“Aww, sweetheart! You’re adorable.”

Strak interjected, saving her from further embarrassment. “Sidney asked if xe could come to visit us on Vulcan this summer.”

“Yes, I hope that you can,” T’rin said, a spark of happiness lighting at the thought of the three of them on her home planet. “You may stay with either myself or Strak anytime you wish. And your brother, as well, if he is well enough to travel.”

T’rin let her two others spin plans, content to listen to their merging voices for a while. 3.4 hours later, Sidney yawned so widely xyr jaw cracked, and T’rin chided xem for staying up so late to talk.

“But I want to spend time with you,” xe complained. 

“There will be other opportunities to speak in the coming days,” Strak said. “You must sleep, Sidney, in order to stay healthy.”

“Okay, okay,” Sidney grumbled. “I can’t believe you two are ganging up on me like that.” Xe yawned and waved goodbye. “Night, you two, I love you.”

Xe froze the instant the words left xry mouth, some internal battle playing out on xyr face. It cleared and Sidney shook xyr head. “Yeah, goodnight,” xe repeated a bit sheepishly.

The call disconnected suddenly. T’rin frowned at the blank screen.

“Xe said xe loves us,” she said. 

“Yes,” Strak agreed.

“Xe seemed conflicted by it.”

T’rin leaned against Strak. He put an arm around her. “Do you love xem back?” he asked.

T’rin considered it for a moment. 

“I have already informed xem of my desire for a permanent bond. I do not feel the need to say those particular words, as I think my intentions were clear enough.”

“Perhaps not to humans,” Strak observed.

“Yes. I will tell xem the next time I see xem,” she decided. “Humans’ need for continuous emotional reassurance should be irritating, but in Sidney’s case, I find it acceptable. Even,” she searched for the right word. “Cute,” she settled on, not quite sure it was right. Strak nodded his agreement, however, and said, “I will also inform xem of my love at the next available opportunity.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in mostly-silence. T’rin relished in the simplicity of it, the companionship without need for filling it with sound. Different than her time with Sidney, but just as special. When the time came that she must leave or risk worrying her parents, she did not have to tell him. He understood, and walked with her to the door. She kissed him twice in quick succession, and knew he understood it was from both her and Sidney. He gifted her with a rare smile and two kisses of his own. Suddenly, T’rin’s chest ached with the wish for a bond with Sidney, to send xem this affection xe was missing out on, so many planets away. Strak must have been of a similar mind, because he broke the silence of the past few hours.

“We will be together when the time is right.”

“It is difficult,” T’rin said.

“I feel it, too. A bond has started forming of its own volition, and yearns to be completed.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “It is strange to feel. Your bond with me is branching off to reach Sidney. Though I have never met xem in person, my mind longs to connect with xem as well. You are the bridge between us.”

“Someday,” T’rin promised. If only Sidney could feel their love, there would be no need to say the words out loud.

—

Being around her parents again was harder than T’rin thought. She had changed so much, and they were much the same. Without meaning to, she started restraining her emotions, like she was before she left for Starfleet. It did well to keep the peace, if nothing else, but made her more emotional in the presence of Strak, who took all her outbursts of affection or melancholy in stride. Her family did not discuss her time at Starfleet aside from Mother asking if she had done well in classes. T’rin dutifully parroted back her grades and extolled on the superiority of her professors and steered carefully clear of discussions of anything else to do with Starfleet. Time moved strangely back on Vulcan. The days were long individually but slipped by quickly all at once. The human holiday of Christmas passed (celebrated with a call from a tipsy and happy Sidney), as did the annual celebration of the new year (quite the same), and T’rin turned her thoughts toward San Francisco again. Spock had sent her an updated class schedule. Intermediate Instruction in Vulcan was not on it, though she had requested it, and she took a mental note to ask him about it upon her return.

T’rin sought out her father in the living area several days later. He was studying a PADD intently, so she waited until he noticed her.

“Father, I am going to the market district to replace some school supplies. Are you or Mother in need of anything I can locate while I am out?” 

“No,” he said. “But it is unnecessary for you to procure such items, as you are not returning to Starfleet Academy.”

T’rin blinked. It was not possible that she had misheard Father; he had spoken clearly. But it was also not possible for her to have heard what she did.

“Explain,” she said evenly. She sat calmly on the sofa opposite him, hands folded primly in her lap. If he was trying to elicit an emotional response from her, she would not give him the satisfaction.

“It is in your best interest to remain here on Vulcan.”

“Explain,” T’rin repeated. 

“I do not see the need to explain. My statement was clear.”

“That is true, yet, I do not understand. Explain.”

“Your mother and I have discussed the benefit of the education you would receive at Starfleet and found it lacking. We also have reviewed the mistakes you have made since your departure and found them unacceptable. As Starfleet is the location in which these changes were wrought, your removal from them will likely reverse them. In addition, either you or Strak will enter pon farr within the next year. As you will stay on Vulcan with him following your marriage, it would be most beneficial to stay on-planet and prepare for your future life.”

T’rin forced herself to stay silent and still. Anger, hot and bright, threatened to spill out and destroy any chance of rational discussion. She caught the tail-end of it and reeled it in, cramming it deep inside her chest.

After twelve wordless seconds, she said, “I find fault in your logic.”

“How so?”

“My removal from Starfleet will not reverse the ‘mistakes’ I have made—by which you surely mean my more rampant emotionalism, my choice in career, and my altered appearance. These changes began before my departure to Academy, and will continue with or without my enrollment there. In fact, forcible removal from Starfleet will, by a large margin, encourage more acts of rebellion than if I was allowed to continue my education. Another fault: you assume I will remain on Vulcan after claiming Strak as my bondmate; it was always my intention to continue my career with or without a bondmate. Current circumstances have not changed this.”

“What current circumstances do you speak of?” Father asked. T’rin almost flinched, knowing she had revealed too much.

“Strak and I have begun to strengthen our bond. We wish to marry before our first pon farr,” she said evasively. It was more of her hand than she wanted to show. 

Father shot to his feet, unexpected anger burning in his eyes. “T’rin, are you so much depraved by your time away that you would lie so blatantly?” he demanded. Bewildered, T’rin stood as well.

“What are you talking about, Father?”

“I have been in contact with your professor, S'chn T'gai Spock, in regards to the letter he wrote to us that you yourself delivered. He spoke of a great many things in our correspondence, including a human with whom you have begun a romantic relationship. Do you deny this?”

Father’s voice grew louder with every word. T’rin’s hands shook, her stomach in knots. “I do not.”

“And so as if entering Starfleet was not enough, you would further destroy your reputation by breaking the strongest match the elders have made in a generation?”

T’rin, hardly able to contain herself, exclaimed, “I have not lied to you, Father, never. I am with Sidney, yes, but my bond with Strak continues to flourish. We are a triad, and you cannot break us!”

Despite the timing, despite the situation and the anger and the sick worry gathering in her stomach, she lifted her chin. Strak and Sidney were  _ hers,  _ they were  _ hers _ and she was proud of them, damn the backlash they would face for it.

“A triad,” Father repeated. All the tension left his body suddenly, and he dropped back onto the sofa. He clenched a fist tightly, studying the back of his hand. 

“A triad.” 

He shook his head. When he spoke again, his anger was gone, replaced by weariness. “Is the bond made?”

“It is incomplete,” T’rin said. “But it has started.”

“It will stay that way,” Father said definitively. “Leave me now, and let me not see you until tomorrow. Go.”

By the time she left the house, he was deep in meditation. Briefly, she wished he would find the peace he sought. She had her own to find, too.

—

Though her heart was screaming for her to, T’rin did not seek out Strak. Instead, she snuck into her own backyard and sat against the side of the wall to think. As a captain she would have to be self-reliant. She couldn’t count on Strak and Sidney or even Spock and Jim to be there every time something went wrong. And if things continued the way they were, she might have to go without their support—

But no, she told herself firmly. She wasn’t going to think about that. There had to be a way to make this better. Disowning herself, though drastic, would work, but that left the issue of money and shelter and, well, everything that came with leaving your old home behind, and relying on anyone else was not an appealing concept. She could ignore her parents’ wishes and hope they didn’t disown her themselves. She could….sit here in despair for a while and think of solutions in the morning. She sighed, dropping her head into her hands, and decided that would be an acceptable choice for the time.

In the end, she took the path of least resistance. A fragile peace fell over T’rin’s house, in which she and her father both knew what had happened, mutually agreed not to tell her mother, and did not bring it up for the next week. T’rin packed her Starfleet suitcase and set it by the door the night before her scheduled departure. On the outside, she acted the part of a perfect daughter, calm, collected, obedient, productive. On the inside, doubt and worry and a desperate sort of loneliness clawed away at her until she could hardly breathe.

She wanted it to stop.

She left the house early without a goodbye, luging her suitcase to the transport shuttle station herself. She sat on a bench to wait the four minutes until the shuttle was scheduled to stop. Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty. After an hour, T’rin concluded that the shuttle was not coming. She walked back to her house, unsure of where else she could go. Strak had left several days before for his first solo journey to sell some of his wares among various M-Class planets in the quadrant, and would not be back for several months. 

Mother was waiting for her when she got back.

“Mother, I apologize for returning without notice. My shuttle did not arrive—I suspect a technical error prevented it from stopping at the station. I will have to book another for tomorrow.”

Mother shook her head. “I canceled your shuttle ride this morning and erased your credentials from the shuttle schedule.”

“It will take at least a week to re-enter myself into the system. I will be late to the beginning of the term,” T’rin said slowly. There would be no reason for Mother to do such a thing. It didn’t make sense.

“Again, you are incorrect. You will remain here on Vulcan, as you discussed with your father.”

She held up a hand before T’rin could speak. “I understand you will likely have a strong emotional reaction to this. I have no desire to witness it. Please leave my presence before commencing such a display.”

T’rin’s voice was perfectly steady, and only the slight shake of her hands clasped behind her back would have given her away. “I am an adult, capable of choosing my own path, and yet you restrict it. I would like to know why.”

“It is simple: the path you choose is not viable. Few Vulcans have succeeded in the command path, and even fewer have had functional triad bonds. None have had a successful triad with a human partner. The combination of these factors will cause you an undue amount of stress that will lead to a lapse in health, purpose, and success. By denying your return to Starfleet Academy, we are saving you from such a future.”

T’rin let out a slow breath. She should be mad, truly, she should, but all at once, it seemed like too much hassle. Tired of the tension in the house, isolated from her partners, battling uncertainty and worries about her future—maybe it was better to let it all go and stay here on Vulcan after all.

She would marry Strak—if he did not reject her after this—and remember Sidney as a mistake of her inexperience. She would get a sehlat that she would name anything but Crackers. She would be the wife of a merchant and never a Starfleet captain. She would push down her emotions again, retain that peace of nothingness she’d had before. It was a simpler life, one without emotional outbursts, without danger, without concern. She released the tight grip she had on her suitcase.

“You logic is sound, Mother. I cannot argue with it.”

The look of pride in her mother’s eyes was almost enough to break her stoic expression. It was the only time in her memory she had looked proud of T’rin. If only it had not come at the cost of T’rin’s personal happiness.


	4. Vulcan

If T’rin looked back, years after this, on her whole life, that first month back on Vulcan was the most miserable period in it. With Strak still off-planet, it was easy enough to avoid telling him that she was still on Vulcan. She didn’t take any calls from either him or Sidney, and ignored any type of mental communication he tried. They grew less and less frequent until she felt the bond, which was so strong until now, begin to wither. It was better that way. Emotional and physical distance and keeping all her shields up as strong as they could be made the last remnants of his— and Sidney’s—presence fade out her mind, leaving a dull sort of echoing emptiness behind. 

She spent that month doing a lot of nothing. She helped around the house, cleaning and cooking, because it was expected of her. She meditated for hours, trying to find that balance back again, that sense of peace that came so naturally before. She tried not to feel too deeply anymore; what good had it done her, except to make her feel the cut of sadness that much more clearly? Despite her long hours of meditation, it still boiled under her skin, everything she’d ever felt. The sadness, the longing, even the joy, roiling around inside with no way out. She was a wreck of a Vulcan, and ashamed of it. 

If her parents noticed her melancholy, they did not mention it. In fact, they did not speak to her very often. Theirs had always been a quiet family, but where once the quiet had come from an understanding of each other, this quiet was borne of discontent. T’rin had disappointed them, confused them, shaken them. She knew they wanted the old her back. They wanted the obedient daughter back, before notions of Starfleet entered her head. In return, her parents had betrayed her, and that was one grudge T’rin knew she would not easily give up.

When T’rin’s hair started brushing the tops of her ears, she let it. No Jim with a set of clippers to “give you a little touch up, huh, kiddo?” or Sidney to brush her bangs out her eyes and mention she was looking a little shaggy. Her academy uniforms retired to the back of her closet.

—

T’rin was reading in the living room when she heard the impatient buzz of the doorbell. She didn’t look up, since her mother was in the next room and would likely reach the door before she could. The door opened with a hiss and T’rin heard a soft sound of surprise that was out of place in her house. Assuming it had come from Mother, T’rin set aside her book to see what the fuss was about. 

T’rin’s feet stuttered to a stop several steps from the door. Her mouth dropped open. There, in her foyer, was Spock, looking stern and collected in his impeccable Vulcan robes.

“Ah, T’rin,” he said gravely. His hands were folded neatly behind him, and he stood ramrod straight. At attention. T’rin felt her own spine straightening on instinct, falling into parade rest that had been drilled into her by her academy instructors.

“Sir,” she responded, on that same instinct. One eyebrow shot up. 

“Sir? Things have certainly changed since we last met.”

“I—I just—” she stuttered. Behind her back, she clenched her hands tightly.

“Why are you here?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Spock said crisply. “That is, in fact, the question I came to ask you myself.”

“You should have gotten the notification—I dropped out—”

She stopped from the force of the look Spock leveled her with. She swallowed hard.

Spock sighed quietly. “Would you accompany me on a walk, T’rin? It has been too long since I have seen my home planet and we have much to discuss.”

T’rin nodded, not trusting her voice to stay steady. Spock bowed slightly to Mother. He murmured, “I will return her shortly. I apologize for my unannounced appearance.” 

T’rin felt Mother’s eyes on her as Spock led her out, one hand hovering just around her lower back, protective, like a parent guiding a young child along.

“We thought it best for me to come in alone, so as to negate the disturbance in your family’s house.”

“We?” T’rin echoed. 

“Quite. I will not tell you they are not upset with you, but I am confident they will forgive you after a short time. They were rather eager to see you again.”

Spock led her down the street to the shuttle station, and it was only his steady hand at her back that stopped her from bolting back the way they came as they rounded the corner. Three people stood in a small huddle, a small mountain of suitcases between them. 

Sidney’s entire face lit up the instant xe saw her. 

“T’rin! You’re okay!” xe shouted. The next moment, T’rin’s arms were full and Sidney’s body was pressed against hers, squeezing her hard enough to hurt.

“Wait,” Sidney said, pulling back. “Hold on. I’m mad at you! Yeah! What the  _ fuck _ , T’rin?”

“I—”

“How could you  _ do  _ that? Just up and leave me without a goodbye or anything? Do you even know how shitty this past month has been? I just—I waited for you to come back and you never did. I thought you were—I don’t know, hurt or in trouble.”

“I am perfectly well,” T’rin said, stunned by the overwhelming sensations of touching Sidney and feeling xyr thoughts again. It was like getting caught in a hurricane after months of drought. 

“No, you are not,” Strak said. He had followed a few steps behind Sidney, but while xe had thrown xemself at her, Strak had simply stood back and waited, his dark eyes pinning her in place. In a rare display of physicality, he looped an arm around T’rin’s waist. His hand latched onto Sidney’s wrist, connecting the three of them in a loose circle. He rested his temple against the crown of T’rin’s head. She felt him; relieved to see her, unhappy with her absence, indignant, worried. “I can feel it. You are forcing away our bond. T’rin, it hurts.”

“I am sorry,” T’rin whispered. “I thought it would be for best.”

“How could you think that?” Sidney asked, unexpectedly sharp. “T’rin, you have to be feeling it too, where the bond is supposed to be. When it first started to go away, it felt like I was dying. I thought I was, until Spock explained what was going on. T’rin, I felt so  _ wrong _ . Like something got ripped from my soul.”

Helplessly, T’rin said, “It hurt me, too. I am so sorry.” 

“So explain it to us,” Sidney demanded. “Tell us there’s a reason you forced us out for so long. Tell us why, T’rin. Because I love you, and I love him, and I love us together, but this? This better have a damn good explanation.”

Words got stuck in her throat, died on her tongue. It was too difficult to explain to herself what she felt. Explaining it to them would be even harder. So she did the only thing she could think of. The second she dropped her shields, she knew Strak knew what she was doing. He pushed closer to her, offering up his face willingly. Sidney flinched back from the unexpected fingers on xyr face, but quickly relaxed into it. T’rin splayed her fingers across the psi points on each of their faces and let out a deep breath.

“My mind to your minds,” she breathed, “my thoughts to your thoughts.”

Sidney gasped and staggered back a step under the combined weight of T’rin and Strak’s minds. Both Vulcans were both braced for it, but such a thing was foreign to a psi-null human like xem. Strak’s arm tightened around T’rin, pulling her closer to him as if he wanted to absorb her into him. Sidney surged back into the embrace, adding xyr own bright emotions to the mix. Between the three of them, their bond sang with relief, like a dam breaking. Months of feelings and moments flooded through T’rin. Sidney’s worry and panic turning into despair at her disappearance. Strak’s aching sadness as he felt her cutting off their bond without an explanation. Her own loneliness and fear echoed back at her and amplified twice over. Sidney’s failing grades and Strak’s neglected business as they found each other on Earth and resolved to come back to find her, too. 

And this, this,  _ this.  _ This bliss, this peace, this simple feeling tying them together, finally together. T’rin felt Strak feeling Sidney kiss her, and she dropped her hands from their faces in order to grip his hands tightly. 

_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry I doubted this, us, any of it. _

_ It’s alright, it’s okay. We’re here now, we’re okay now, aren’t we?  _

_ Yes, we will be alright now.   _

—

None of them could say how long they stood like that, holding each other, sharing physical and mental space, but the meld ended of its own accord, fading out bit by bit until T’rin opened her eyes and found herself alone in her head. Only not totally alone, because the bond hummed quietly, stronger than ever, at the back of her mind. Two distinct, connected presences. 

Spock and Jim stood facing outward on either side of their little huddle, as if to guard them from anyone who might interfere. But the streets were empty, no one a witness to their actions but themselves.

“It is….unspeakably pleasing to have the bond restored,” Strak said quietly. “I have missed you. And Sidney, now that our bond is in place for the first time, thank you and welcome home.”

Sidney wiped xyr face, leaving behind smeared tear-tracks. Xe smiled weakly. “Yeah, right back at you. All this is new to me but I can’t think of two better people I’d want in my head. That was…really something, huh?” 

Xe paused. “But, uh, what  _ was _ that? Was that the bonding-thing? Are we Vulcan-married now?”

Sidney looked to T’rin and Strak, but also to Spock, to explain.

Spock, in what Jim would jokingly call ‘teacher mode’ said, “Not quite, but you are not far off. There is a lot more to it, but yes, the meld the three of you just shared most likely strengthened what started as a spontaneous bond, similar to the bond forged between Strak and T’rin in their youth. It is now more than a betrothal but less than a marriage.”

“Congrats, you crazy kids!” Jim said cheerfully. He slung an arm around T’rin and Sidney, squishing Strak between them. He laughed at Strak’s offended expression and let go. “Sorry, sorry! I forgot you don’t know me all that well. Between Sid and T’rin, I feel like we’re family already.”

“Speaking of family, I believe it is time to have a discussion with yours, T’rin,” Spock said. T’rin tightened her grip on her Strak and Sidney’s hands. 

“Will you be able to convince them to let me go back to Starfleet?” she asked. 

“We don’t know,” Jim admitted. “But goddamn if we’re not going to try.”

The two adults walked further ahead, leaving the trio to trail behind at a slower pace. 

“Hey,” Sidney said lowly. “Before we talk to your folks and all, I have to know. When we make it official, you know, the marriage bond….will it be like that?”

“Like the meld? Somewhat. It will be constant, but not nearly as intense. It will be similar to the bond we have now, if clearer and more consistent,” T’rin said. Sidney nodded thoughtfully.

“Okay. Because if it is, I don’t want to lose it. Now that I know what it’s what it’s like, I know I want it, for real. But I won’t do it if you’re going to pull that shit again. I can’t live with the fear that someday it will be ripped away from us again.”

“No,” T’rin promised, her voice fierce and low. “I would not give this up for the world.” 

“Neither would I,” Strak said. Sidney looked between them and something like resolve hardened in xyr eyes. 

“Okay. Then let’s do this. Me and Jim and Spock are going home. And you’re coming with us.”

—

Dinner was an awkward affair. Her parents could not politely ask them to leave, not when Spock was so highly respected on Vulcan. He offered to help with the preparation of the meal, leaving T’rin with Jim and her two in the living room with Father. No one said much of anything. Father’s eyes kept straying to the way Sidney clutched at T’rin’s arm and T’rin’s other arm around Strak’s waist, but he said nothing. Neither did T’rin.

Jim kept a steady patter of words flowing, nothing important but enough to fill the dead air. He chatted away brightly and set the table just in time for Spock to carry out some serving dishes. Sidney made a face after xyr first bite and Jim laughed. “Vulcan food doesn’t taste the same here, huh?”

“It’s great,” Sidney said, voice strangled. 

5.2 more minutes passed in perhaps the most uncomfortable silence of T’rin’s life. She picked at her food, as did Sidney and Strak. Spock seemed to be the only one content to eat his meal, Jim cringing his way through mouthful after mouthful dutifully beside him.

Breaking the silence, Spock said, “T’rin, we must begin making plans for your return. How long will it take you to prepare to leave Vulcan?”

“I can be ready within an hour,” T’rin answered quietly.

“That will be more than satisfactory. We must depart as soon as possible in order to make a timely arrival on campus.”

T’rin sat up a little straighter, remembering something. “It is the middle of the semester. You should not be here right now. You will miss classes. And Sidney, what about your brother? Is there someone taking care of him while you’re gone?”

Sidney coughed. “Um, I was gonna tell you about it later but...I sort of reconnected with my parents after you disappeared. Um, things aren’t great yet, but they will be. Andrew’s staying with them for now, until I get back. Or maybe forever. Like I said, it’s...yeah.”

T’rin touched xyr wrist, expressing with feeling what she couldn’t in front of her parents; sympathy and support and pride. Sidney ducked xyr head. “They met Strak. He made a good first impression, which is good. They want to meet you when you get back.”

“I would be honored to do so,” T’rin said softly. They shared a smile for a moment, T’rin, a touch self-consciously, knowing her parents were watching.

“As for me and Spock, we called in a family emergency,” Jim said, bringing back the atmosphere to something more fitting for the location. “The Academy will survive without us for a few days, I think. Even if they can’t find someone to cover our classes, I’m sure our classes would mind a day off. In fact,” he said, but Spock shook his head.

“Jim, we are not going to extend this trip beyond what it needs to be simply because you think we should have a vacation.”

“Come on, Spock! You remember the last time we were on Vulcan? I think we’re due for another honeymoon, honey.”

T’rin choked on a drink of water. Sidney thumped her back, grinning.

“You’re embarrassing T’rin, guys,” xe said. Jim smiled. 

“Sorry, T’rin. It’s what dads do.” 

“You are not T’rin’s father,” Father interrupted loudly. Quietly, Spock said, “Jim, this is not the best way—”

But Jim barreled on ahead. His eyes steely, he put down his silverware. There was something hard about his face that T’rin had never seen before, something dangerous and determined. This man was more than her instructor and friend, T’rin remembered. Not just a cheerful middle-aged man with a disposition for spoiling cats and taking in stray students, but one of the most decorated, accomplished captains in Starfleet history. T’rin was suddenly very pleased that he was on her side, and sympathetic to her parents, who both looked somewhat anxious at the change in the air. 

“Really? Because given the data I’ve gathered, I’d say me and Spock are much better parents to T’rin than you have been. Of course, I can’t tell how you were when she was younger—maybe you were understanding of her strong personality and let her be creative and original. But I doubt it. Because a good parent would support their daughter’s choice in career—a career that she’s going to be fantastic at, by the way—and her choice in school. A good parent would video call her at least  _ once  _ during the semester to make sure she was okay. A good parent wouldn’t forbid her from going back to school, where she’s been flourishing academically, personally, emotionally, physically. A good parent would allow their daughter to chase after soulbonds with support from her family, and give her blessings when she finds them.  _ A good parent wouldn’t try to destroy their daughter’s happiness.  _ So when I say ‘that’s what dads do’, I mean it. We do all of that, and yes, sometimes we embarrass our children. Because regardless of bloodline, Spock and I have claimed T’rin for our own, and her bondmates as well. Because we, at least, are  _ good parents. _ ”

He picked up his silverware again, smiling pleasantly. “This is delicious, by the way. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Beside him, Spock slowly closed his eyes. He let out a deep breath.

“T’rin, perhaps you would like to go pack up your belongings? I have several matters to discuss with your parents in private.”

“Should Jim come with me?” T’rin asked. That brought a smile to Spock’s face. 

“There is no need. I thank you for your concern, but Jim will behave himself. Won’t you,  _ ashayam? _ ”

Even T’rin could hear the warning in the endearment and Jim visibly flinched. 

“Yes, my dear,” he said meekly. He winked at T’rin, so she knew there was no lingering bad blood between them from the little spat.

“I will accompany you,” Strak offered. Sidney agreed to as well, and so the three of them excused themselves.

Back in her room, T’rin emptied out her closet. She dumped uniforms and robes on the floor in an untidy heap and sat down to fold them. Strak joined her, his folding much neater than her own. 

“Can I help?” Sidney asked. T’rin nodded, gesturing to her abandoned suitcase in the corner of the room. Sidney laid it out, removing the few things still in it to repack. As one of them finished folding, Sidney would take it and pack it away. While they quickly packed up T’rin’s belongings, she said, “I will be pleased to return to Starfleet and resume my education, but I find myself reluctant to leave. Strak, I will miss you greatly.”

“There will be no need to miss me,” he said. He touched her hand briefly, letting warm affection transfer from him to her. “I am returning with you.”

“What?” Sidney screeched. Xe dove across the room and hugged Strak tight against xem. “Oh my god, really?”

“What is happening?” T’rin asked. Sidney, beaming, sat back on the floor. Xe still had xyr arms around Strak, and he wrapped his own around xem, looking like he might have to be pried off with a spatula. Wonder and confusion warred on his face, as though he had not considered the human concept of ‘hugging’ before and found it much more to his liking than he had expected.

“When Strak was on Earth, he had a meeting with a fabric supplier who was based in San Francisco. That’s how we met, actually, since he was in town,” Sidney said to T’rin. 

“The supplier was not of the highest quality, but I prioritized proximity to Sidney—and, I assumed, you—while I was on Earth.”

“That is so sweet, babe,” Sidney said happily, planting a smacking kiss on his cheek. “Anyway, while he was there, that supplier asked him to consider a partnership based in San Fran. He said it was unlikely but that he’d get back to her soon.”

“I have decided to accept her offer. I will return to Earth with the two of you. My business will be approximately 22% less profitable on Earth as compared to on Vulcan, but I have meditated on it and found that the opportunity to be near both of you is worth the loss of business.”

He hesitated. “I am hopeful that I will be able to find lodging nearby.”

“Nearby? Honey, you’re moving in as soon as possible. You too, T’rin. I’m all-in on this one. You Vulcan marry us and you move into my apartment. That’s how it works.”

“That would be…more than acceptable,” T’rin said. She pressed her lips together, unable to find the words to express the warmth bubbling up in her chest. This morning, she had woken up, alone and without hope for a future that she ached to think of. Tonight, she had it all within her grasp, and her two most important people sitting on the floor of her childhood bedroom with her, making plans for their life together. 

“Aw, come on, girl, bring it in,” Sidney cajoled, reaching out xyr one free arm. T’rin was, of course, unable to resist the pull of her mates, and fell into their arms, slotting into place with a sense of rightness and belonging that would never lose its novelty. 

T’rin was happy. She owed it to the intervention of the only other Vulcan on campus, to his bondmate and their numerous cats. She owed it a human who was kind enough to help a lost student find an illogically-named building. She owed it to the bond that had been formed in her youth, before she could know the depth and weight of it. She owed it to an introductory course she did not need to take but did anyway, to offset homesickness and, consequently, bring her a sort of home she had never expected to have. She owed her happiness to all of that. And, above all, she owed it to herself. She was proud of that.


	5. Epilogue

Teaching, T’rin found, was surprisingly similar to command. Since this was her last term at Starfleet before her first placement and had finished most of her requirements, she had a lighter course load than usual. Spock had asked her to take over the second section of Introduction to Vulcan on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons so he could devote more time to his own studies. She was Spock’s TA, officially, and had all the qualifications to teach the subject matter, and so it was only logical to take the assignment. Thus far, she only had one class period upon which to reflect, but it had been filled with many compelling (if personal) questions from willing and eager students. With the proper guidance, this class would be highly successful. The last of her new students trickled out of the room, a few of them waving shyly at her (and one even attempting the ta’al, face pink with embarrassment). She packed up the rest of her belongings, but was stopped two steps out of the room by one of her students who had left not five minutes before.

“Teaching Assistant T’rin,” the Vulcan said. He was young, even for a first-year student, with a severe haircut and a uniform pressed within an inch of its life, as Sidney would undoubtedly term it.

“Cadet Stryn,” T’rin returned. “You may call me T’rin for ease of conversation, as ‘Teaching Assistant’ is a cumbersome title. What can I help you with?” 

She gestured for him to follow her back into the empty classroom. She took a seat in one of the desks, dropping her bag at her feet, and he sat across from her.

“I have some concerns about the class,” he informed her. He held up the syllabus, knuckles white. “Some of the subject matter covered in the course is appallingly inappropriate. We cannot discuss bondmates and mating rituals in the company of humans.”

T’rin stifled a smile. Was this how Spock had seen her, three years ago? Stiff, awkward, worried about something that truly didn’t matter this much?

“I have analyzed it from both human and Vulcan perspectives,” Stryn continued, and fighting that smile was getting a lot harder, now. His understanding of the human perspective would not be developed enough at this point for a true analysis, but pointing out such a thing would only prolong the conversation, so she let him continue. But his voice trailed off, his eyes locked on T’rin’s left hand.

“You are wearing a wedding ring,” he said.

“I am.”

“Vulcans do not wear wedding rings.”

“Correct, cadet. However, most humans do.”

The cadet blanched. “Your bondmate is a human?” The word dripped with revulsion, but T’rin knew better than to be offended.

“A correct assumption. Now, about your concerns—”

Suddenly, T’rin stopped, listening to the bond thrumming in a familiar, close-by way. She stood and collected her bag once again.

“I apologize, cadet, but I must depart. We may continue our discussion at a later date. I am interested in hearing your reasoning.” 

She turned to the door just in time for Strak to walk through. 

“Ah,” she said, touching their bond to let him know she was happy to see him—the best she could do in the presence of young, reserved Vulcan. She brushed fingers with him, taking him by the elbow to face her new student.

“Cadet Stryn, this is he who is my husband.”

“I am Strak,” Strak said, inclining his head. Stryn frowned faintly.

“You said you were bonded to a human,” he accused T’rin. 

“I did,” she agreed easily. Amusement from Strak brushed through her and she sent mischief back to him. 

Just then, as she knew xe would, Sidney came bursting through the door, out of breath. Xe pointed at Strak.

“T’rin! Strak closed the lift doors on me! I had to run! Up the stairs!” xe exclaimed.

“You have been neglecting your daily exercise,” Strak said serenely. “I am only doing my duty as your bondmate to help you maintain your health.”

“Sure,” Sidney muttered.

“Cadet,” T’rin interrupted, knowing if those two got started, they would surely be late. “I would like you to meet xe who is my spouse.”

“Hey, kid. Do yourself a favor and don’t get a husband  _ and  _ a wife. All they do is gang up on you for laughs and use you for a personal foot heater,” Sidney said to the cadet, sidling up to T’rin and Strak. Xe kissed each of them on the cheek, showing more restraint than xe usually showed in public, of which T’rin was grateful. 

“Come on, T’rin, we’re going to be late,” xe said.

“We have a margin of 1.87 minutes before we need to depart in order to be on time, and then it is unlikely the restaurant will be prepared. We will have to wait approximately 14.2 minutes before we will likely be seated,” Strak reminded xem.

“Thanks, dear,” Sidney said, exasperatedly fond.

“It is the day of my birth, and my spouse wishes to celebrate it,” T’rin explained to her student.

“That is illogical,” Stryn managed, which was impressive considering how shell-shocked he looked at the events unfolding in front of him.

“Maybe. But my duty and privilege as a bondmate is to strive for the contentment of my mate or mates. Therefore, it is logical to adapt to xyr customs, and xe has adapted to mine. I find it is….” she searched for the word. “An acceptable compromise. As my mates have stated, we must depart. You may confer with me before class begins on Thursday. Live long and prosper, Stryn.”

She and her bondmates left the stunned Vulcan in the empty classroom, and Sidney was kind enough to wait until they got a few yards down the hallway before bursting into laughter.

“His  _ face! _ ” Xe said gleefully.

“Spock informs me that he and Jim will likely be late to the restaurant. They are en-route to pick up Sidney’s brother at his house and have gotten lost,” Strak said, gently steering the conversation away from T’rin’s student.

“Jim thought he could find it without a map?” T’rin said, more a statement than a question.

“Undoubtedly,” Strak said. 

Safely alone in the lift, T’rin took her spouses’ hands, squeezing them lightly. 

“Ooh, getting frisky,” Sidney teased. “Save it for later, sweetheart. Me and Strak have  _ quite  _ the birthday present in mind for you when we get back to the apartment.” 

“If you thought that was a secret, you are quite mistaken,” T’rin said. “I should really teach you to shield better. I nearly broke my PADD in front of thirty students when you started thinking about it during class.”

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” Sidney groaned. “I won’t be able to  _ stop  _ thinking sexy things at inappropriate moments now.”

“It is a burden I am willing to bare,” T’rin assured xem.

“Good, ‘cause you’re stuck with us. I’ve got the marriage certificate to prove it.” 

T’rin looked between her two, thinking of Strak’s quiet assurance and Sidney’s bright energy. She thought of the presences that fit in the back of her mind like they were meant to be there—and after all, they were. She thought of the cat in their shared apartment and the family dinners they had once a week with Spock and Jim. She thought of her life in San Fransisco, the career that lay ahead of her, of the missions she would go on and the ship she would serve on with Sidney at her side. She thought of every shore leave she would spend wrapped up in Strak’s arms. She said, “I would not have it any other way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :)


End file.
